


Ring of Fire

by science_fiction_is_real



Series: Fire family bullshit [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Fire Nation (Avatar), Fire Nation Royal Family, Marriage, Political Drama, Romance, Zuko Alone, but not yet, i fell into a burning ring of fire i went down down down..., lets make ursa a BAMF again, lets watch a normal person become a villain, muahaha, screw the Gene Yang comics, tagging ALL the warnings because i intend for shit to get DARK, we are going to talk about abuse, yes it is named after the johnny cash song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 55,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/science_fiction_is_real/pseuds/science_fiction_is_real
Summary: When 17 year old Ursa of Hira'a moves to the Fire Nation Capital, she has big dreams for herself and bright hopes for her future. There she meets an attractive and spirited fire nation prince, who has big dreams of his own. But as their fates intertwine, the corruption of the royal court is impossible for them to escape. (Rewrite of Ursa and Ozai's backstory. I hate the comics.)





	1. Entering the Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa struggles to find her footing having just moved to the Fire Nation Capitol

Ursa of did not like capitol. During the long ride north from Hira'a, she had looked out of the carriage window in dismay as the green jungles and rice patties of her home transformed into scrubby, dusty desert. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as they entered the city, overcome by the smell of old fish from the port and the waste that lined the busy city streets. The noise was inescapable, even behind closed doors. Her family's new apartment was luxurious, but far too small for her parents, herself, and her two brothers.

Every morning before opening her eyes, she imagined herself back in her quiet home town. She missed her theater troop and wondered what play they would do this year, and who would play the part that normally would be reserved for her. She missed old Mrs. Tao with her herbal teas and kindly advice, and Ikem who had made her laugh since childhood with his pranks and sharp wit. She longed to walk in the mountains again, to visit the farm animals, to feel the cool tropical rain on her skin.

It was the people in the city who bothered her the most. Her rural accent was instantly noticeable by everyone she spoke to, though Ursa had never thought of herself as having an accent. Her father's swift promotion had only recently brought her family into wealth. They had not had time to buy fine silks and learn the manners of the upper class. The neighbors snickered at her simple cotton robes, cheep jewelry, and lack of book learning. So far her attempts to make friends had been unsuccessful.

"I know this is difficult," her father told her. "I'm homesick too. But I'm doing important work for Fire Lord Azulon, for the benefit of the entire Fire Nation. I have no doubt, Ursa, that you also will accomplish great things in this city."

"I haven't made any friends. I don't know any one important. I didn't even get in to the Royal Academy for Girls," she said. "How can I possibly get a foothold in this place?"

Father put his hand on Ursa's shoulder. He handed her the satchel she carried with her when she went into town. It was filled with books and parchment and notes. "You'll do what you've always done, my love, you will teach yourself. You taught yourself how to fire bend, how to act on stage, how to write, how to sew and garden and dance. If anyone can make it in this city, it's you."

She took a deep breath and nodded. There was a library within walking distance of their apartment, a luxury her home town didn't have. She would get up in the morning and read everything there was on history and law and mathematics. There were the students from the local college who met at the pubs and tea shops to talk politics and art. She would join them and listen in and ask them questions, whether they invited her or not. If the people in this city did not give her a place, she would carve one out for herself.

As summer turned into fall, Ursa dedicated herself to her studies. She would get up in the morning to go to the library. But her family could see a change had come over her face, a subtle sadness and loneliness that never seemed to go away. While her studies were her one ticket to a better life, they also were an excuse to close herself off from the new community.

On a sunny autumn afternoon, her brother Bo stopped her as she was heading out the door of their apartment.

"Change of plans," Bo said. "Go change into your exercise clothes."

She set down her books and wrinkled her eyebrows at him.

"It will be fun," Bo said. "There's a fire bending club that meets by Sozin's statue once a week. Kids go there to spar and practice with each other."

"How did you hear about it?" Ursa said.

"Jinjie who lives across the street, he invited me."

"Did he invite you or did you invite yourself?"

Bo wasn't always the most socially aware person. But that seemed to work toward his advantage in the new city. If he couldn't tell people were scoffing at him, it didn't bring him any pain. But he narrowed his eyes at the question. "I fished it out of him."

Ursa sighed. "I don't have time, Bo."

He took hold of her hand. "I'm worried about you, Ursa," he said. "You need to get out, make some friends."

"I've tried. No one here is interested."

"But that shouldn't stop you from trying," he said. He sighed. "Just come. Just for an hour. Then you can go home, and you don't ever have to go back. Just try it."

The thought of meeting people in her exercise clothes was somewhat appealing for Ursa. If she and everyone around her were not wearing their best robes, she wouldn't stick out for wearing cotton instead of silk. The exercise clothes would be a temporary equalizer.

"Okay," she said. "I'll go. Just to try it."

Ursa and Bo made their way to the town square as afternoon faded to evening. The gathering of young athletes by the statue was noticeable from a distance. The siblings set their bags and water canteens in a pile with the other fire benders' belongings.

Young fire benders stretched and chatted. Ursa only recognized a couple of them. She felt eyes targeting her as she walked through the courtyard. The young, Fire Nation nobility could smell outsider blood from miles away. No body said hello to them or spoke to them.

"Do you see Jinjie anywhere?" Ursa said.

"Not yet," Bo said. He stood on his toes to see above the heads around them. Bo was short. A famine had struck their home town when he was little, and had stunted his growth. His very height marked him as being different from the nobles around him who had grown up in abundance and luxury. "There he is!" Bo waved.

Jinjie pretended not to see them. Bo waved harder and called out to the neighbor, but Ursa put her hand on his arm to quiet him. She had adapted faster to the manners of the court than he did, and she knew better to attract attention to herself and her family.

But thankfully the awkwardness was stopped before it could develop further. The club leader hopped onto a bench and ordered them to quiet down. The first spar was about to start. "Who drew the first card?" he called out to the gathering.

"Drawing cards? Did we miss the drawing?" Bo whispered to Ursa.

"No, they were just beginning to pass the hat as we arrived," Ursa said. "They just didn't pass it to us."

"Oh," Bo said. "That's weird."

"No it isn't," Ursa said.

"I have it! I have card number one." A young man, just a few years older than Ursa, stepped forward, holding up a slip of paper with number one printed on its front.

"Well of course, you did," said Jinjie with a snort.

"Just a coincidence, I promise you," the young man said. "I drew the first card. I get first match, and first choice of sparing partner." He moved into the ring and stretched, anxious to get started.

Ursa got a good look at him. His black hair was tied back neatly and tightly. His face was cocky. He was the only one who had taken off his shirt, maybe to keep cool during the exercise, but more likely to show everyone his body. He was built like an oak tree, and he probably put a great deal of time and effort into that appearance.

Ursa hated him. With one look, she knew exactly what sort of person he was. He was proud and superficial. He valued what other people thought of him, and he wanted them to think he was intimidating. Ursa had met a lot of people like that here in the capitol city, and it was people like that who made her want to close herself off in the library, pining for home.

The young man with the first card rolled his head to loosen the muscles in his neck, and he looked for a sparing partner, a victim. "I feel like doing a bit of a warm up, for my first match," he said. "I'll save the tough matches for later. "Skinny bitch with the sun tan. The one who looks like she just drank a whole bottle of spoiled milk."

Eyes turned onto Ursa, once again.

Ursa felt her knees weaken. She wanted to sink into the earth and stay there.

Bo thought the insults were funny, and he actually laughed. She was going to kill him. But first she was going to kill this cocky son of a whore who had challenged her.

She took a deep breath and stood up straight. "Okay," she said. "We can spar if you want. I'll make sure to go easy on you."

A few chuckles came from the crowd. The cocky young man also chuckled, but he didn't think it was very funny.

"Usual rules apply," the club leader said. "Fight ends when someone's knocked from their feet. Hands and feet only, no fire. No strikes on the face, neck, stomach or genitals. I want everyone walking home in one piece."

"You might need to explain the rules again for the new girl, I don't think she understands our upper-class accent," the cocky young man said.

"Don't worry," Ursa said. "I won't hurt him."

They stood face to face. He was a head taller than her and half again her weight. He had a stupid smirk on his face, as his eyes wandered up and down her body. This was going to be fun.

He bowed, and so did she. They took their first stance, and waited to see who would strike first. Ursa did not wait long.

Her sparing partner jumped forward. His fist flung past Ursa's shoulder as she sidestepped to avoid it. He turned instantly and tried a kick. But again she was faster. She leaped right over his flying foot and planted a blow right in the center of his chest.

He grunted. It was no light tap she had delivered. His face curled up in frustration and he struck again, but she caught his fist in her hand and pushed it aside.

"What are you doing with your feet?" he said. "Your footwork is all over the place. You're dancing around like a jack-rabbit-deer."

"That's what you're supposed to do. I was taught in the Black Island style," Ursa said. "Keep moving, keep them guessing."

She kicked, he blocked. She kicked again with her other foot and caught him in the knee. He growled as the sting reverberated from his knee cap and up his spine.

"Black Island style. That was invented by a woman you know. Heh! Good for housewives and peasant maidens, but this is the Fire Nation Capitol."

"You know your fire bending history, I see," Ursa said.

"Maybe I could coach you after the fight is over. If you're going to fight with men, you should know how to fight like a man."

She blocked another punch. He grabbed her arm but she twisted free.

"I don't want to fight like a man," she said.

"You think you could defend yourself against attacking water benders prancing around like that?"

"I don't think you understand how Black Island style works." She landed another blow on his shoulder, hard enough to make him stagger. "You see, when men fight, they use brute strength, they use all their weight and they hit as hard as they can."

"The one who hits hardest usually wins," the young man said.

"Unless you miss, and then you have used up all of your energy. But when women fight" she said, "we don't rely on strength or even speed. We rely on our heads."

"Your heads?" He snorted. "Are you going to calculate your victory with an abacus and some scrap paper?"

Ursa grabbed the young man's arm. As fast as lightning she twisted it behind him and held it there. "You see, with your wits and your knowledge, you can find your opponents weakness. For you that's your left side, which you aren't guarding very well. And with that, you can take down a much larger, stronger opponent." From behind, she gave his left arm a strong twist. The twist was not strong enough to move him on her own, but because of the pain it caused, he moved himself. He yelped, and bent backwards hoping to relieve the pressure on his elbow. And with one more light tap, she knocked him to the ground.

The young man stayed there for a second. He looked up at her. "How... how did you...?"

"By fighting like a peasant maiden," she said. She leaned over him and gave him a smug smile. "Black Island Style." She looked up. "I think he's okay," she said to the club leader. "I told you I wouldn't hurt him."

She left the ring smiling. The eyes around her watched her still, but now with a little more respect.


	2. Naming the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa manages to make a new friend.

Ursa came back the next week. No one challenged her to fight. Except for the cocky young man. Again she pushed him to the ground before she broke a sweat. Week after week the young man challenged her. Week after week she beat him. He did learn from her however, and he became increasingly hard to defeat each time. But not that hard.

Ursa began to look forward to it. When the club finally allowed her to draw a card, she knew exactly whom she would challenge. It became a common assumption among all the club members that the two were to be paired off automatically.

One evening after the meeting disbanded, the cocky young man approached her.

She shouldered her bag and took a long sip of water from her canteen. Her guard was up as he approached, but she still looked him in the eye and awaited his words.

He was far less sure of himself now. He stood in front of her for a long time, struggling to pull his tongue from his throat.

"You have something you need to say to the skinny bitch with the sun tan in the cotton rags?" Ursa said.

"It would be easier if I had something to call you, other than... that," he said.

"Ursa," she answered.

"Major or Minor?" he said.

"Ha. Ha." Ursa closed up her water canteen and returned it to her bag, ready to leave.

"Wait!" he said.

"For what?"

He choked over the words as they came out of his mouth. But Ursa at least could understand him. "Do you want to go with me to the park and practice for real?"

"With fire?" she said.

"And... maybe... we can get a drink afterwords."

Ursa considered. She should have gone back to the library to continue studying. She should have told this haughty young bender to go light himself afire and never speak to her again. Her life would have gone very differently if she had.

There were several reasons she said yes. She had grown to enjoy sparring with him. Despite the fact she always one, he actually was pretty talented. Practicing with him was a good opportunity to improve her skills. They had sort of gotten to know each other over the past few weeks, and she had almost come to enjoy the banter the two of them threw back and forth during their matches. Though she rolled her eyes every time she saw him remove his shirt before a match, he actually did look pretty good without it. But perhaps the main reason was because after living in this city for four months, he was the first resident who actually asked what her name was.

"That could be fun," she said with a slight smile.

He smiled back, more of a smirk than a smile. It was flirtatious and irreverent. She hated it and loved it at the same time.

The park was not far away. It was open, and not crowded. There wasn't much around them that could burn, and they could fire bend as much as they wanted without risk.

She watched him practice his warm up drills. Until now, she had not noticed how graceful he was, how light on his feet. He looked like a dancer. The look in his eyes as he moved, was filled with passion and euphoria, as if he really were dancing. And when he produced flame, he did not hold back, long, thick plumes that ascended 30 feet into the sky. Ursa's old teacher had called fire bending an "art," and now for the first time she could see it.

She did her drills as well. She wondered if she also looked that good. Of course, she couldn't see herself. She doubted it. She expected him to be critical of her. But he wasn't, not unless she specifically asked for his opinion. And he was helpful when he did. After getting his ass whooped multiple times by her, he knew better than to try and correct her. She had a few pointers of her own. She taught him how to better guard his left side, and how to better dodge an opponent's strike.

The eyes of bystanders were drawn to the light they produced. Some stood by to watch. No one said anything to them, however. They practiced until they were both covered in sweat, and the sun had sunk far below the horizon.

They found a quiet pub afterwords. He bought them both a hardy warm drink, and they talked.

"My father was appointed to the office of Agriculture and Economics," Ursa said. "Before he was the governor of the province of Hira'a."

"That place?" he said.

"You've been there?"

"Once."

"What did you think?" she asked.

"I thought there was a lot of rice, and a lot of bugs," he said. "It smelled bad."

She snorted. "You don't think this city smells?"

"Parts of it do, I guess. I don't usually go to those parts," he said.

"Maybe the farms smell, but not the whole village," Ursa said. "Especially when you get up onto the mountain trails. And then you can smell the forest, and the rain. And the orchids that grow off the trail."

"You miss it."

She nodded.

"You don't like the capitol? All the art, and culture? You don't feel proud your father is making decisions for the entire Fire Nation?"

"I don't like the people here," she said. "People here seem concerned with things that aren't very important. All I hear them talk about is their blood lines, who their parents and grand parents were, who their daughters are marrying. Or clothes, or money, or how to get ahead in politics. And I don't understand any of it. And they have no understanding of what's important. Every day in this city, I see beggars on the street. Everyone walks past them. They don't even look them in the eye. In Hira'a, we didn't have people who slept on the streets. If a person was down on their luck, someone would give them a place to stay or cook for them, or pitch in to get them on their feet." She paused. She hadn't expected herself to start venting. She knew she had felt out of place and unwanted, but she hadn't realized how deeply those feelings ran. But once she started she couldn't stop. "At home, people recognized me as an individual. Here I'm something from a group. I'm from out of town. I have a rural accent and cheep jewelry. I'm a... well... I'm a skinny bitch with a sun tan and cotton rags."

"Oh," he said. He looked down at his drink. "I guess I shouldn't have called you that."

"No," she said. "You shouldn't have."

"I don't like the people here either," he said.

She looked at him.

"There's a lot of corruption that goes on. I don't think a lot of people see it, but I do."

"Really? My father hadn't complained about it at all."

"You've only been here a few months. He might not have noticed it yet. Or he's in on it."

"How dare you!"

"Everyone's in on it. My brother is an officer in the army. He complains all the time, how promotions are handed out based on money and blood and influence, instead of merit. We're at war. We can't afford corruption in the army. And in the court... It's more of sex ring than a office of government."

Ursa laughed. She nearly spat out her drink.

"I'm serious!" he said. "Everyone's sleeping with someone else. Everyone's got one in hand in one person's pockets and the other hand in someone else's pants. It's disgusting. Nothing of importance ever gets done. You have to be a real slime ball to get anywhere in this city."

"Not me," Ursa said. "I'll do it. I'll get somewhere. And I'll do it honestly."

"Boy, you really aren't from around here at all."

"And you?" she said. "Are you going to make something of yourself? Are you going to do it honestly?"

"I won't just be honest," he said. "One day I'm going to make everyone else honest too."

"You think you can do that?" Ursa said.

"Why not? I don't think anyone else is going to do it. My brother would have the power, but not the will. He doesn't really have much will to do anything. So it will have to be me." He took a sip of his drink. "I'll do it. I'm going to grab this city by the balls, and dangle it upside down and beat it till all the dirt falls out."

"That's big talk," Ursa said. "But..." she smiled. "I hope you can. And if there's anything I can do to help you..."

"You just wait," he said. "You won't recognize this place when I'm done with it."

The conversation paused for a beat. Ursa looked around. "Do you know a lot of people here in the capitol?"

"Why do you ask?" he said.

"It's just a lot of people turn their heads to look at you. But you're not talking to any of them. Did you do something embarrassing?"

"You..." An incredulous smile crept onto his face.

"What?" she said, not sure she liked that look.

He laughed. "You don't know who I am!"

She wrinkled her eyebrows. Of course. Everyone in this city thought they were someone. "No," she said, with a bit of indignation. Though the realization had come to her that she didn't know the cocky young fire benders name. She hadn't asked. He hadn't offered. Maybe she had heard it in passing during the club meetings but she remembered it being something rather traditional and common. After the first week had gone by, she had been too embarrassed for not knowing to even ask. "I mean I know I can kick your ass during a spar any day I choose. I don't know if I need to know more."

"Oh, seriously. How long have you been living in this city? And no one has pointed me out? No one has mentioned who my family is?"

"Should they have?" she said.

He laughed again and took another sip of his drink. "I mean, if you haven't figured it out by now, than I don't even know what would be the point of telling you."

"You're probably not nearly as important as you think you are," she said.

"Technically I could have you executed for saying that."

"Who would swing the axe, your overly proud and doting grandmother?"

He snorted. "You're adorable, country girl, do you know that?"

"Well," she said. "Now you're just going to have to tell me."

"No," he said. "I want to see the look on your face when you figure out who I am."

A uniformed man entered the pub. His step was quick and he let the door slam shut behind him. Ursa tried to figure out who he was by the style of his leather armor, but she hadn't been here long enough to place it. The man stopped in front of her drinking partner, and bowed.

"Prince Ozai, your father sends me with orders that you immediately return home and see him in his throne room. His majesty says the matter is urgent."

The cocky fire bender looked at Ursa, his left eyebrow raised. "I guess the game is over."

Ursa turned bright red. She didn't have a response. The reaction was just as amusing as the prince had hoped for. He gave her a satisfied smirk.

He winked at her and patted her on her shoulder. "I'll see you next week, Ursa Major. If not... Well, you know where I live. The guard will let you in." He tossed a couple coins on the table for the bar maid, and then followed the soldier out into the city streets.


	3. The House Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa decides to take Ozai up on his invitation.

Ursa told her parents she had been out with a friend that night. She wasn't sure she wanted to share the details. She didn't know how they would react.

"You met someone at the Fire Bending club?" her mother asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Who was it? Was it Jinjie?" Bo said.

"Ew. No. It was... It was that guy I've been sparring with," she said.

Her other brother, Quon leaned in and, and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you hear that Bo? Kill the fatted calf, set the tables, and strike up the band, because we're about to have ourselves wedding feast."

"Quon, I swear to Heaven!" Ursa said.

"I told you good things would happen if you got out and made some friends!" Bo said.

"I'd hardly call him that," Ursa said.

"You just did call him a friend," Quon said.

Ursa exhaled.

"No, this is good Ursa," her father said, interrupting. "Combined with your studies, taking the chance to network within the city could really help you advance yourself. I was just encouraging your brothers to do the same."

"Especially if he's eligible," Mother said, setting down her book.

"Mother!" Ursa felt blood rushing to her cheeks. She didn't want to think of the prince in any sort of romantic capacity, but her mind wondered back to his shining black hair and the sturdy build of of his shirtless torso. She covered her face with her elbow.

"I think we broke her, Bo," Quon said.

Like a thief before the gallows, Ursa denied and denied to her family that anything the slightest bit romantic had sparked between her and the boy from the Fire Bending club. But her family had seen right through her. She couldn't get the prince off her mind. His insults and haughtiness perhaps should have been a dire warning, like the yellow stripes on a stinging hornet. In a way she saw the warning, and she still felt a twinge of disgust when his face appeared in her mind's eye. But she thought about him still, their pleasant conversation in the pub, the fun they'd had practicing together. She thought about him as she struggled to go to sleep that night, and she saw flashes of his face in her dreams.

The next day, she could barely stand it. She went to the library early in the morning as usual. She read through one scroll and then another, but couldn't focus well enough for the third. A restlessness was inside her, twitching in her chest. She looked down at the scroll, eyeing at the calligraphy without really reading it. She tapped her fingers on the desk. She would learn about naval history later. She rolled the scroll back up and returned it to its shelf.

Ursa grabbed her bag, and headed out into the sun. "You know where I live," he had told her. He had also told her that the guard would let her in. She wasn't sure she believed that. But she felt like trying it out.

The palace was in the center of town. Its high tower could be seen above all the rooftops and walls. All she had to do was follow it. Though she did get lost a few times in the Capitol's twisting streets and alleys. But eventually she found the main palace gate.

She stood there looking at it for a second. The fire bending guards were armed and armored and stern looking. The walls were so tall she no longer could see the palace's high tower when she got close to it. She thought that she wasn't appropriately dressed for something so austere. But what else was she to do? Go back to library and waste the afternoon pining and unable to concentrate?

She took a deep breath and approached the guards.

They looked at her, a hint of disgust visible under their visors, eyebrows raised at her middle class clothing and cheep jewelry and heavy sun tan. She willed herself not to turn around. She wasn't sure what to say, so she kept it simple. "Hello..."

"Do you need something."

"I'm here to see prince Ozai..." she said very slowly and unsure of herself.

This wasn't going to work. It was a prank, she was sure of it. They would shoo her away and laugh at her, just like everyone else in this town did, just like Ozai had when she'd first met him.

But then they asked her for her name.

"Ursa of Hira'a," she said.

They looked at each other.

"We did have our orders," one of them said.

The second one shrugged. He signaled to a man on the wall to open the gate by a crack.

"Thank you," Ursa said.

"Wait in the garden for the housekeeper, she'll inform His Highness you have come to call," the guard said.

Ursa squeezed her way into the garden. Her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the beauty of the palace grounds.

Exotic flowers lined the path. Orchids, roses, bromeliads, all of which would have required extensive watering in this desert heat. There was a lovely Koi pond with lotus blossoms floating in it, and a fountain bubbling from its center. She had seen nice gardens before, but never ones as vast or well-manicured as this.

She heard the gate shut behind her. The guards began to talk with each other, believing she was now out of ear shot.

"I don't think she poses any danger. But we at least should have checked her for weapons."

"Oh, I think she poses a danger, but more likely in the form of a venereal disease, and I don't care to check her for any of those"

The first guard snorted. "I think he poses a greater danger to her in that regard."

The second elbowed the first in the ribs. "Quiet down before you get us both executed!"

Ursa thought about turning back to guards. Perhaps to scold them for degrading her like that, perhaps to ask how many other women had come to call on the prince. But she had already pushed her luck getting through the palace gates, and decided it would be more productive to ignore them.

She was now alone in the garden. Her heart started beating. As out of place as she had felt in the Capital City, she fit even less into the palace itself. She felt like a splinter in a finger with blood swelling around it. Maybe she should have told her parents where she was going, though she doubted they would have believed her if she had. She still wondered if all of this was a cruel prank.

She sat down under a fat old ginkgo tree and waited for someone to notice her. That happened to be another guard, who rushed to asses her as soon as he saw her. She asked him if he knew where the housekeeper was, and he did not. He became very polite when she told him her name, but he made no attempt to help her. She realized that if she waited here, she would be waiting all day.

The grounds of the palace seemed miles away from the noise and smells of the city just outside. They were so vast, she was unsure she'd be able to find her way back to the front gate after she left it. Servants and guards were stationed in corners and alcoves, but they were so quiet and demure it cast the illusion she was walking through the grounds alone.

She found her way into the palace proper through a servant's door. The vast size of the interior gave her vertigo. The fall of her feet echoed off distant walls. Art work, some of it older than the Fire Nation itself, lined the halways. She stepped past a servant woman who was better dressed than she was, though she was on her knees scrubbing the floor. She paused in front of a depiction of Fire Lord Azulon. His stern, bearded face looked down at her from ten feet above her head. He was many years younger in the portrait than he was in real life, Symbols of his accomplishments surrounded him. She felt incredibly tiny.

Male voices approached her from behind. An entourage of well-groomed officers in the midst of an argument.

"Absolute madness!" one of them said. "Just because we outgun the Northern Water tribe doesn't mean its a good idea to attack it. The losses would be heavy and the expense would be astronomical."

The northern water tribe, a place so far away, Ursa almost believed it didn't exist. But apparently it did. She felt like a child eaves-dropping on a parental discussion of sex and finance.

"If we wait, they'll continue harassing our northern settlements. And we'll have to continue to rebuild them, continue to send supplies and colonists. You don't think that will be expensive?"

"A compromise perhaps," offered a third voice. "Send the ships to the settlements. Play our hand defensively. By summer, we'll have enough new ships to discuss a raid in earnest. Look, we're not going to come to a decision on this today. And it's almost noon. Heaven knows I have other duties to attend to in the mean time. We'll meet to discuss this again tomorrow."

The entourage dispersed. Half a dozen armored men went in one direction, and half a dozen went in the other. Only man, the one who had proposed the compromise, was left. Standing before her in the hallway was the prince.

But it was not the one she had come to see.


	4. A tale of two brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Iroh.

Unlike Ozai, Ursa recognized Prince Iroh immediately. Iroh's portrait had been printed and distributed almost as widely as his father's. Iroh was heir to the throne, known for being ferocious in battle, but also shrewd with strategy and measured with diplomacy. His name was famous; Ursa knew mothers who had given it to their newborns in his honor.

Because of this, Ursa was rather startled when she saw how short he actually was. However, he still had a soldier's sturdy physique under his layers of fine silk. His combed hair and trimmed beard had a light seasoning of salt. His face was relaxed, though somewhat tired, but most of all it was observant. And at this moment he was observing her. He didn't seem overly fascinated or suspicious, but he was curious. It was a gentler gaze than the harsh stares she received from her neighbors in the Capitol. But it was thorough. Ursa suspected he could read her like neat calligraphy.

It took Ursa a moment to remember her manners. She put her hands together and bowed.

He responded with a formal nod. "Is this your first day on the job?" he asked her.

"I don't..." Ursa coughed. "I don't work here. Your Highness." She almost felt offended at being mistaken for staff, but considering how clean and well dressed the staff were, it was more of a compliment. Mostly she was surprised the prince would even speak to her if he assumed she was just a servant girl.

"I guess that would explain why I've never seen you before," Iroh said. "I notice you are admiring the art. Do you like the art?"

"Yes, sir," she said.

"I never liked it growing up, but I started to appreciate it more as I learned how it fits into our history. Each of these pieces has a story behind it. There's a romance to that, I think."

"Is there a history behind this one? Sir?"

"My father's portrait? I don't know. I was on tour near Omashu when it was painted. I can tell you I think it's very ugly and I've begged my father to have another one done. But... art can only be as beautiful as its subject. Which is why I hate posing for portraits myself."

"Oh," Ursa said. She wasn't sure if she was allowed to laugh at that.

"What exactly are you looking for?" Iroh said. "Or who exactly?"

"Ozai. Sorry. Prince Ozai. Sir." she said, still unsure of her own voice. "He goes to the fire bending club on the first day of the week, and I do too. He gave me the impression he would allow me to visit. The guards let me in."

"Oh, you're a fire bender?" Iroh's gaze became just a little more scrutinizing. Ursa again got the feeling she was not the first girl Ozai had brought home. "He's been going to the fire bending club ever since his last instructor quit. Our father is not interested in hiring another one, and my brother is not interested in learning from me. So he hoped the club would be a good chance to improve his skills."

"Is he busy, Sir?"

"Almost always, though not always with the things that should be occupying his time," Iroh said. "But we can find him and ask. Walk with me." The older prince swept his hand in an inviting gesture, then turned on his heals to head down the hall. His pace was quick, a soldier's march.

Ursa trotted behind him. Her nerves still shook, and she still felt extremely and out of place.

He asked her questions while they walked. His tone, like his gaze, was gentle and curious. He interspersed his inquiries with small talk. But once again, Ursa got the feeling she was being read, that he taking the opportunity to size her up.

"I'm glad to see my brother is getting along with the others at that fire bending club. What was your name again, girl?"

"Ursa."

"Ursa... like the stars... nontraditional, but lovely indeed. Have you come of age, Ursa?"

"I'm seventeen, Sir."

"You look like you're seventeen. You know, I was around that age when my brother was born. Not an easy age to be, but I suppose I had my fun. Are you attending the Academy for Girls?"

Ursa didn't want to answer. She was dreadfully ashamed that she hadn't been accepted. "My siblings and I weren't able to move up north until after the admissions deadline."

Iroh turned to look at her. She could tell he had spotted the lie immediately. She saw the wheels turning in his head. But he carefully noted her answer, then moved on. "So you're new to the Capitol, then?"

"My father was recently appointed to the Office of Agriculture and Economics just this summer."

"Oh yes, I think I know who he is. Mr. Han, The fat man with the grizzly mustache?"

"Yeah... I mean... Yes, Sir."

Iroh, seemed slightly amused at how she stumbled over words. "He has some interesting theories about the distribution of wealth among the provinces. I think we could make good use of him here, if we could only get him to turn in his research reports on time..."

"That does sound like him."

"And you came from Hira'a?"

"Yes."

"As if your accent didn't already answer my question. A absolutely gorgeous region. My wife and I used to have a summer home in the Black Islands."

Ursa paused to contemplate the idea that someone could possibly afford two houses. "You go there every summer?"

"Oh, no, I haven't been down there in years."

"I imagine someone like you must be extremely busy, Sir."

"Well, I guess you're right, but... It's not my house anymore." He snorted. "She's not my wife anymore either. But that's a story for another day."

Once again Ursa wasn't sure if she was allowed to laugh.

"Alright, Ursa of Hira'a," he said with a good-humored smile. "I believe this is our stop." He gestured to an unmarked door on the left side of the hall. With little ceremony, he opened it and marched inside with his wide, soldier's gait.

"For Heaven's sake, Ozai!" he said. "If you're going to stay in here playing with yourself all day, you should probably lock the door!"

Ozai had a Pai Sho board in front of him. He was practicing on his own, turning the board around between moves. His eyes narrowed with annoyance. Iroh approached the board, grabbed the white lotus tile, and moved it forward a couple places, ending the game with a victory for white.

"Don't you have more important things to do, Iroh?"

"Nope!" Iroh said. "But I think you do. I do believe Father asked you send some letters for him to the northern provinces."

"I finished them."

"Did you take them to the Admiral's office to have them delivered?"

"You know I am capable of accomplishing minor tasks without your hand-holding, Iroh."

"I'll take that as a no. But, in the mean time, brother, you have another excuse to continue your procrastination. You have company!"

Ozai bristled. "I hope it's my good friends Peace and Quiet. I haven't heard from them in a while." He looked up and saw Ursa in the doorway. A slight blush tinged his cheeks. "Oh,"

Iroh patted his brother firmly on the back. "You need me to stick around and chaperone? Or can I trust her to know where to kick you if you try anything idiotic?"

"I think we'll be fine," Ozai said.

Iroh winked at Ursa on his way out. "You're not at the fire bending club anymore. Strikes to the face, stomach, and genitals are most definitely permissible."

"Argh! Will you find the housekeeper and get her to make us some damn tea?" Ozai said.

"You're a fire bender. Make it yourself." Iroh closed the door behind him.

Ozai looked at the door and took a deep breath. "Sorry about that Jackass."

"He seems alright," Ursa said.

"Oh, he is, but he can be a bit of a pest."

"I have brothers," she said. "I know how that works."

"I doubt you have the slightest idea," he said. "I was surprised you took me up on my invitation. Did the guards give you any trouble?"

"They were helpful enough," she said, choosing not to repeat the quips the guards at the gate had exchanged.

"Do you want some tea?"

"That would be nice," she said.

He called out into the hallway and a servant girl seemed to appear out of thin air. How did these servants blend in so easily? She hoped the royal family didn't take that talent for granted. Ozai only had to gesture, and the girl was off at a trot.

He set up the Pai Sho board once again. "Do you play, Country Girl?"

"I do," she said.

"Are you any good?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Well, I guess we'll find out." He turned the board and invited her to make the first move.

Ursa felt a sting in her chest, like liquor poured over a wound. She remembered playing with Mrs. Tao after helping her with the garden on summer afternoons. The Royal Palace seemed about as far away from Mrs. Tao's garden as one could possibly get. If Ozai noticed the sadness that crossed her face, he didn't make note of it. Perhaps he didn't share his brother's skills for reading people. The tea arrived. Ursa began the game with the opening sequence Mrs. Tao had taught her, but otherwise tried to push her hometown from her mind.

"Is your brother really seventeen years older than you are?" she said.

"Sixteen," Ozai answered. "I think."

"Did you guys get along when you were little?"

"Well, considering we were never little together... he joined the army before I even learned fire bending. I mean, I suppose we got along. He can be rather..."

"I see he teases you a lot."

"The teasing is expected. The patronizing is what infuriates me. It would be nice to be able to live my own life for once. Without someone having an opinion on everything I do. He talks to his son the same way he talks to me."

"How old is his son?"

"Eleven. And he's a brat."

"Aren't most eleven-year-olds?"

"Fair enough. I suppose I don't care for children."

"As a prince, won't you be expected to have some of your own?"

His voice grew somewhat dark. "Someone is always expecting something from me. Mostly they expect me to be more like my brother."

Ursa understood having pressure placed upon her. She faced pressure to behave like a nobleman's daughter, pressure to sit like a lady and stand with good posture and dress decently, pressure to keep the house clean, pressure to excel in her studies. Ursa also understood the feeling of resentment that came with being under pressure. But the expression on Ozai's face revealed an anger she herself had never experienced. Perhaps for those higher up the social ladder, the pressure was far greater than the type she faced. But she suspected that was only part of the story.

"That sounds tough," she said.

He scoffed. "That's the way the dice lands. It would be ridiculous for me to complain." He took a deep breath. An itch to move his body had overcome him and he tapped angrily on the game board. "Do you want to go do something else?" he said.

"Like what," Ursa said.

"I don't know. What are you interested in?"

"History," she said. "Current affairs."

He smirked. "Would you like to sit in on a Council meeting?"

"You mean like, with the Fire Lord, and his Councilors?" Ursa leaned back a bit. "Would I be allowed?"

"If you sit in the corner with a pitcher of water no one will even notice you," he said. "Well, unless they want water. In which case, make sure you stand on the left side to pour and bow and that sort of thing..."

"Like a servant?" Ursa said.

He shrugged.

"Is it boring?" she said.

"Dreadfully," Ozai said. "Though perhaps not to someone whose never been to one before."

"A long, boring meeting, that I'm not technically allowed to attend, during which I'll have to work," Ursa said. She smiled. "I can't think of a better way to spend my afternoon."

Ozai stood up and smiled back. "We'll finish the game later. Now let's go find you a disguise."


	5. The Water Bearer and the Fire Lord

Ozai stole a pitcher of water from the kitchen and put it into Ursa's hand. "Don't let the housekeeper catch you with this. Because then she might tell my father and then... well. Just act like you belong here. Come with me, we need to make one more stop first."

They headed down a central hallway. He knocked on a plain looking door. A man in a military uniform answered and bowed. Ozai pulled a bundle of sealed letters from his inner pocket and handed them to the soldier. "These need to reach Red Rock City in six days. Tell Captain Qin I've outlined in explicit detail to whom each letter is to be sent. Repeat back what I just told you."

The soldier demonstrated his understanding. Then he took the letters and sprinted down the hall.

"Are those the letters Iroh was talking about?" Ursa said. "What were they about?"

"If I explained it to you, Country Girl, you would be so bored your brain would melt out your ears."

And then it was back in the opposite direction the way they had come. Ursa imagined the royal family got plenty of exercise navigating such a large house. Perhaps that explained their skills as fire benders.

Ursa slowed down when she saw the doors to the throne room. Her throat went dry.

Ozai was almost at the door when he noticed she had fallen behind him. "Yes, its perfectly in tune with your disguise to use this door. Don't worry about it."

"No, I..." Ursa cleared her throat. "That's the throne room?"

"Yeah?" he said.

"And the Fire Lord is in there. The Fire Lord."

"Oh," Ozai said. "I forgot this stuff isn't ordinary for you. Yes. He's in there."

"I've never met anyone like that before," she said.

Ozai turned to Ursa and lowered his voice. He adjusted the collar on her shirt and wiped a bit of dust off her shoulder. "You've never met a tired old man with bad arthritis and an even worse temper?"

She took a deep breath. "As curious as I am, I really don't belong in there."

"And that's what makes it fun! You go in first. There's a chair for you in the right hand corner. I'll go in separately. We mustn't look like we're together."

Ursa looked at the door again. She stepped forward and pushed her way inside.

The Fire Lord's throne room was well lit, but windowless. The art lining the walls was intricate and endless. The pillars reached four stories up to the ceiling, and the hard stone floor shone like a mirror. The Councilors were gathered around at a table before the throne. All of them were men, bearded, clean, and well dressed. They smoked pipes and passed around a bottle of liquor. They looked like they weren't used to being around women, the type who would try to grope at her if she got too close.

The Fire Lord himself spoke with them, though he sat above their heads. He wasn't as handsome as he was in the portraits, with a more receded hairline, and heavier signs of age on his face. He was indeed an old man with bad arthritis. But he was still intimidating. Ursa prayed she would not embarrass herself.

The door thudded closed behind her. She jumped. The men looked at her. She hurried to the corner before anyone could make an issue of it. Thankfully they she was quickly forgotten after she sat down. She was now a eaves-dropping on a conversation that could affect the lives of thousands of people.

"For Heaven's sake, Wei, you can't just raise taxes on half the population and expect nothing to come of it. The upper classes feed the lower ones. We tax them, we are taxing the lower classes in turn."

"You forget, Mr. Kim, that it is the mindset of these upper classes to hold on tightly to every coin. They are more frugal than paupers. If we want to upkeep our roads, feed our army, and fund our schools we cannot allow our nation's wealth to sit idly in a rich man's coffers or be squandered on prostitutes and opium."

A third man snorted. "I think we're all going to need a little opium by the end of the day, with Wei over here being such a pain in the ass."

Laughter erupted.

Ursa strained her ears. Reading history as a girl, she had imagined that her nation was governed by rational, high-minded, godlike beings. But these people were anything but. Their banter was disgusting, but it fascinated her as well.

Ursa should have taken this as a warning. The humanity of the royal court left room for pettiness and the worst of human instincts. She should have realized the danger posed by petty, emotional men who were given god-like authority. She should have gone home. But she could not tear her ears away.

Ozai entered, having learned long ago to close the door slowly. He bowed before his king.

The Fire Lord spoke. "Fashionably late, Ozai, despite ten thousand reminders of when you were expected."

Ozai remained facing the floor. "My sincere apologies sir. I found my time unexpectedly occupied."

"With what? Prostitutes or opium?" said a councilor, prompting more laughter.

Ursa expected the Fire Lord to rebuke the council for insulting his son. But he actually chuckled. "Sit down, Boy."

Ozai bowed little lower. He sat down at the end corner of the table. Despite his height, he looked dwarfed by the older men around him. He turned and looked at Ursa. She raised her hand in a subtle wave. He gave her a light smile, but then turned back toward the councilors before anyone could noticed. She immediately understood the real reason she had been invited. He needed the company.

For the next hour the meeting jumped between topics. Taxes, grain production, war, crime rates. Ursa listened like a sponge. But the men spoke faster than she could absorb. She realized she had been carrying her library bag with her. She silently pulled over a small table, and on it she laid her spare parchment and her ink well. She begin to write. There were things she did not understand that she would have to look up later when she returned to the library. Occasionally a man would raise his cup and shoot her a glace. She would drop her brush, run over and pour his water, looking over his shoulder at the inscrutable notes on the table before him, and then she would run back to her parchment as quickly as she could.

Ursa was almost out of ink when Ozai given a chance to speak.

He cleared his throat. The councilors looked at him with faces that ranged from annoyed to amused. He pulled another parchment from his inner robes. His voice and face were steady but sweat had collected on his forehead.

"As I said I would during our previous meeting, I have initiated an investigation on the Magistrates in the Capitol City." He laid the parchment on the table in front of him.

"Do we have time for this?" said Councilor Wei.

Ozai ignored him. "I chose not to speak to the magistrates, but to the men in their service. Men who have less to lose are more likely to be honest. I spoke with thirty."

"Thirty!" Firelord Azulon said. "Quite a chore indeed. That explains your delay in finishing those letters."

"Written and sent, Sir," Ozai said. "But to continue, what I found was rather troubling. Many of the men reported they had been asked to falsify recordings of tax collections. I have no futher evidence of impropriety, but it appears many magistrates in the city are diverting tax money toward their personal treasuries. It's hard to say how many of them are engaged in this behavior or how much loss is inflicted on the National treasury but..."

"Hold on," the Fire Lord interrupted. "Ozai. There is a far leap between clerical errors and a city-wide conspiracy."

"I am not suggesting a conspiracy. I only say the matter warrants further investigation."

"Even so, you are quite bold accusing men I myself hand picked to govern this city of violating public trust. We talked about this last week. I told you that this line of inquiry was inappropriate, resource inefficient, and frankly unnecessary."

"I make no accusations, Sir, I merely believe-"

The Fire Lord sighed. "Please hurry to your point, Ozai. It is nearly the end of the day and we are all eager to retire."

Ozai looked down at his paper and hardened his face. "I recommend, Sir, that we recruit an investigative team of men from outside the city who have no connections to the officials within. We give them three weeks and full investigative authority. It should cost no more than 25,000 gold pieces."

Someone at the table burst laughed, unable to hold it in, but quickly composed himself. The Fire Lord ignored it.

Ozai cleared his throat again. "I have here, Sir, a list of the men I spoke to. And a summary of what they told me. You may find it interesting."

There was a moment of thick silence. The Fire Lord looked down at Ozai with his aging eyes. Ozai waited. "Mr. Yan," Said the Fire Lord. "You were going to tell me about the insurrection on the Eastern Coast before we left today."

The councilor who had laughed sat up to attention, the scrambled for a document from the papers in front of him, lowered his glasses, and began to list statistics.

Ursa watched Ozai exhale and slouch in his seat. She felt bad for him, but didn't have time to dwell. She had more notes to take. An insurrection? She wondered why she hadn't heard news that serious.

A man raised his cup, asking for a drink. She scrambled for the pitcher. He was sitting next to Mr. Yan. She wanted to see the report on the insurrection. She craned her neck as she poored, but couldn't see much. The handwriting was scratchy, only the phrases "unarmed civilian," "arrested," and "ethnic unrest."

There was a angry shout. Ursa looked down. She had overfilled the cup. The table was flooded and documents were leaking ink. The man took his cup angrily. "Damn you woman! Us this your first time ever pouring water?

Ursa stepped back. Eyes were upon her, as they always were here in the Capitol. She panicked and said the first thing that came to her mind. "For a job, yes." That was an idiotic thing to say. "I'm sorry."

"You'd better be," the man said, holding aloft the ruined papers. "I only had one copy of this report."

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"It is your Fire Lord you should be apologizing to. Because I owned him a copy of this and now it will be delayed. I have to go back to my office, have my secretary write up a new one..." He continued to rant.

Ursa's body felt stiff and wooden, and water welled at the coerner of her eyes. She should turn to the Fire Lord, bow, and apologize. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was paralyzed. But an advocate spoke up for her.

"Oh, settle down, Kim." It was the Fire Lord himself . "It's her first day. Heaven knows I've never seen this girl before. I doubt it is a mistake she will repeat."

Ursa relaxed just a little. She finally turned and bowed. "Thank you, Sir," she said, her voice unsure of itself.

"Girl, who gave you that pitcher?" said the Fire Lord.

She hated the fact he was speaking to her. She wanted to go back to the corner.

"Speak up, child, because if it was the house keeper, I'll know to have a word with her."

Ursa realized honesty was her only option. "Your son did, Sir."

She could not see Ozai's face. "Ursa..." he said, but then he silenced himself. But he had already given himself away.

"And why," said the Fire Lord, "would he do that."

Ursa cringed at the sound of her own voice. "So that I could sit in on the meeting. I told him I was interested in the affairs of the nation."

"And did you find our affairs interesting?"

Ursa dared peek up at the monarch's face. He didn't look angry, he looked amused.

"Yes, Sir," she said. "I took notes."

"Bring them to me."

She ran back to the table, picked up her parchments, and brought them before the throne, but dared not get too close to the flames that separated it from the rest of the room. She held up the papers.

"Heavens, child! I am an old man with old eyes and I can't read from that distance! Put them in my hands!"

Ursa hesitated. The idea of approaching the Fire Lord was taboo. But she had been ordered to do so.. She saw that at the side of the throne room was a small step that would allow her to step past the flames onto the platform near the throne.

She climbed up and brought the notes across the platform. The Councilors were watching. She handed the notes to the Fire Lord, reaching her arm out all the way, afraid to get too close. He took them for her.

"Ha! Would you look at that," the Fire Lord said. "Hand writing I can actually read!"

"Sir, please allow me to apologize," she said. "It was inappropriate for me to come here uninvited. I did not mean to disturb your meeting."

"Well, from my understanding child, someone did invite you. Against my wishes, I should say. But invited you were, all the same."

She saw Ozai looking at the door and bouncing his knee. He looked mortified.

"I assure you girl, you are not the first young pretty thing my son has involved in his crazy schemes. I do not fault you. What young woman could resist being swept up in such a way, after receiving attention from a man of such high status?"

Ursa took a moment to respond. "With all do respect, Sir, I am here of my own volition, and it is I who must assume the responsibility."

The Fire Lord lowered the papers. He squinted at Ursa. He reached out and grabbed her hand. His hands shook with age. His grasp was gentle. But through his paper-thin skin she felt a fire bender's warmth. These hands had been powerful once, perhaps even deadly. "A noble response. Isn't that sweet, boys? I know I never would have been so responsible when I was her age."

The councilors nodded obediently.

"Alright," the Fire Lord said. "Responsibility you have. You must work off your dept to Councilor Kim and myself. You destroyed his report. You have to pay for it. So what could I possibly as of you, my dear?"

"I don't have any money, My Lord" Ursa said, beginning to panic. "My father serves you in the Office of Agriculture and Economics. His pay is modest and he doesn't know I'm here." Ursa took a deep breath. "But I'd be willing to work off the dept, Sir," she said. "I can clean floors . I can cook."

"Well, girl, I doubt you'll make much use of a scrub bucket or soup pot if a water pitcher is above you. But your handwriting is exquisite..."

Ursa held her breath.

"Who is your father, child?"

"Han of Hira'a."

"And did this Han of Hira'a bother to name you?"

"Ursa, Sir."

"Excellent. Ursa. I am in need of a scribe. My hands have given way to arthritis and I no longer can write for myself. I need help writing correspondences and recording important notes. Arrive at dawn, tomorrow."

She bowed.

The old man laughed. "Well, we managed to solve one problem during this meeting today! Dismissed. Except for you, my son. We're going to discuss this incident in further detail."

Ursa let go of the old man's hand. She hurried away, noticing the heat of blood rushing to her cheeks.


	6. The Murky Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa is surprised at how Ozai reacts to her news.

The Councilors dispersed and Ursa followed them into the hallway. She made eye contact with Ozai on her way out. She gave him her most encouraging smile, but he didn't look encouraged.

She thought it would have been rude to leave without talking to him. She also wanted to discuss what had just happened. Her head was spinning, and again she was struck with the feeling of being out of place, a spider-mouse who had entangled herself in the affairs of owl-cats. But she felt excited as well, privileged even. She sat down on a bench and waited for her friend to emerge.

She watched the incoming sunlight turn from yellow to rosy amber. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation of the evening meal. Her fingers tapped the bench beside her.

When Ozai finally emerged, he didn't see her immediately. He yelled, releasing fire and smoke from his mouth. He banged on the wall next to him, and a piece of clay art fell from its mount and shattered on the floor. One day, Ursa would learn to fear his anger, and one day later, she would be entirely jaded by it. But today he was a young man who seemed understandably frustrated. The sound of the breaking startled him.

"Shit," he hissed when he saw the broken pottery. He knelt down to pick up the pieces and place them on a table. And then he saw Ursa watching him, and his anger turned to embarrassment. "Shit..."

"I'm... trusting it did not go well," Ursa said to him.

"About as well as I could have expected," Ozai said.

"What did he say to you?"

"To never pull a stunt like that again. That this was starting to be indicative of my character. That if I ever want to make something of myself I'm going to have to act more like my brother. And other things I'd rather not repeat."

"Oh," Ursa said, unsure how to respond.

He sat down bench beside her. He looked exhausted. Ursa wondered how someone so young could look so tired. She had an impulse to put her hand on his shoulder, but she wasn't sure that would be appropriate.

He turned to her. "Don't do it."

"Don't do what?"

"Don't work for my father."

"I have a dept."

"I'll take care of it, Ursa," Ozai said. "I'll negotiate on your behalf. I'll record his notes myself. I'll offer to reimburse Kim from my own pocket money. I'll... I'll take whatever the old man throws at me. But don't take the job."

Ursa looked down at her skirt. "That's really nice of you..." she said.

"But what?" he said.

"But I actually... want this job," she said. "I figure after I work off my dept I'll continue to work for a wage. And I want the job."

"Why?" he said.

Ursa wrinkled her nose on the question. She thought the "why" was fairly obvious. "Because, I've been in the Capitol for three months, Ozai. I haven't gotten into school. I haven't really made any friends except for you. I don't have a place here. Until now. I've been given a chance to make something of myself, to learn and study and apply myself, which is all I've ever wanted since I came here. And maybe I'll be able to afford some new clothes so people stop staring at me. And of all the jobs I get, I get to work for the Fire Lord!" It finally dawned on Ursa how lucky she was. She smiled. "This is an amazing opportunity for me. I feel like... I feel like I've been given a small amount of power over my own life."

"That will last for five minutes," Ozai said.

"What do you mean? Don't you see how this is a chance for me to rise above my station?"

"The closer you get to power, the less power you have yourself. Ursa, I am a prince. I'm lucky. I've never faced starvation or want. I've never slept without a roof overhead. I've never known a hard day's labor. But that doesn't mean I have power. That doesn't mean I have control over my life or that I'm not subject to my father's whims. You think you want a piece of the life I have. You don't. You want to go home to your ordinary middle-class life with ordinary middle class people. Don't go work for my father."

"I don't understand," she said. "What's so bad about working for him? What could possibly happen?"

"Just don't do it," he answered.

"Are you telling me to go home because I've done something to upset you? Ozai, I didn't mean to embarrass you in there. I'm sorry."

"No, I like you just fine. That's why I'm telling you to leave."

Ursa studied his face. It appeared there was a dark truth stuck in the back of his throat, wanting to come out. She felt like she was in a boat looking down into a murky pond. She couldn't gauge the depth, but she could tell there were fish within.

And while Ozai's warning made her uneasy, she couldn't weigh it against the potential rewards. This was an opportunity she had to seize.

She exhaled. "If anything terrible happens I can quit, can't I?"

He shrugged. "Depending on my father's mood, but theoretically."

"Well then that settles it," she said. "Your father ordered me to be here at dawn tomorrow, and to do otherwise would be insubordination, and a crime. Besides," she added with a slight smile. "I like the idea of getting to see you every day."

He paused. And a little blood rushed into his cheeks and he smiled back. "Well... don't say I didn't warn you," he sighed.

"Warning noted." Ursa stood. She faced the prince and gave him a low bow. She retraced her steps down the hall, through the garden and into the streets as the sun began to set. She had to get home and get ready for work tomorrow morning.


	7. Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa gets to know her new employer

When Ursa told her parents she had gotten a job at the Palace, her mother shrieked with joy, and her father lifted her off her feet in a bear hug.

"We knew you could do it!" her father said. "We knew you'd find a place for yourself within this city."

"Who will you be working for?" her mother said.

Ursa hesitated. She felt little embarrassed, unsure how they would react if they knew how high up she had been noticed. "Someone I met at the fire bending club, his father gave me a job as a scribe."

"What does he do?" her father pressed.

"He's a Councilor," Ursa said "Some old guy with a beard. I don't remember his name. I should have written it down."

"Some scribe you are," Quon shouted from the other room.

"Quon, you could concentrate on finding your own job instead of trying to break your sisters confidence," Mother said. She squeezed Ursa's shoulders. "Ursa, you are more than qualified for this! Tomorrow I'll cook you a nice hot breakfast and I'll do your hair. Okay?"

Father hugged her again. "You're going to do great!"

The next morning with a head full of braids and a stomach full of porridge, Ursa headed out into the sunrise. The town was sleepy and quiet, and few had taken to the streets. The guards at the palace gate didn't dare make her late.

Ursa had not learned her way around from yesterday's visit. She made many wrong turns down vast hallways, struggling to orient herself. But someone came to her aide.

"Now you told me you didn't work here!" Iroh stopped her. He laughed.

"I do now," she answered him.

"I've been updated on the details," he said. "Follow me, we're going to the same place."

Ursa hustled to match his soldier's pace as they headed down a hall and up a flight of stairs. Iroh nodded at a pair of guards standing by a grand wooden door. He opened it. Inside was a crowd of important-looking men. The room was warm and elegant,lined fine carpets and tapestries, plush furniture, and exotic ornaments from around the world. Grand windows overlooked the palace gardens. In the center sat the Fire Lord.

"I have found our lost lamb wandering in the eastern wing," Iroh said. "Perhaps, Father, some directional signs might be a good investment."

"Oh yes," Azulon said, "Write that down, Ursa!"

Ursa paused. Iroh winked at her and nodded toward a desk in the corner which was already stocked with parchment and ink. She sat down and began to struggled at first. The men talked quickly. She wasn't sure what details she was supposed to record. She thought a good start was to write down who came and went throughout the morning, which was difficult since she didn't know anyone's name.

They spoke of far off places with exciting names. Kyoshi Island. The Eastern Air Temple. The Si Wong Desert. Her lack of formal education weighed heavily upon her. Despite her hours in the library, she still felt lost. She resisted the impulse to raise her hand and ask questions.

Sometimes someone asked her to do something specific, which was far easier. She wrote out to-do lists, wrote letters and copied other documents.

Throughout it all, she still felt like she was in a place she didn't belong. This was especially true in between meetings, when she was in the office with the Fire Lord alone. Once or twice he had a specific task for her. But sometimes it was just heavy silence as he sipped his tea and browsed the documents on his desk.

By noon the morning meetings had ended. Ursa's hand was cramping, and she was almost out of paper.

At that point, Azulon raised his arms and stretched. "I think we accomplished quite a bit for one morning, wouldn't you agree, dear?" he said.

She noted the long row of parchments she'd set out to dry. "I agree sir."

"You certainly have have written enough to replace the papers you destroyed."

Ursa's knee bounced. She saw it on the tip of his tongue. Would he give her the job permanently?

"I'll have my officers inspect and critique them. I doubt he'll be too harsh, considering this is your first day."

Joy and relief washed over her.

"But now," the old man said. "We have lunch!"

Ursa had brought some rolls and an apple with her. "Where... where do I go to eat?" she said. She felt somewhat silly asking that question to the fire lord himself, but who else was there to ask.

"I go down the hall to the balcony, whether permitting. And fine weather we're having today," the old man said. "And I do enjoy company during my meals."

She blushed. "You would like me to join you, Sir?"

"Isn't that what I just said, child? Get me my cane!"

She obeyed.

He took the cane from her, and took hold of her hand to help himself to his feet. He walked slowly, but without much difficulty. Ursa still was anxious he might fall, she walked him with her arm outstretched. She hoped that wasn't rude.

"Oh yes," he said. "Lovely weather! We must enjoy it before the monsoon arrives."

"Does it rain here in the desert?" she asked.

"Not much, but still too often for my taste. 'Dry earth greets cold rain like a lover's kiss...'"

Ursa smiled. "'But no lover's kiss is rain to me.'"

Azulon laughed. "You know your poetry! Not many young ladies these days know the work of Sato the Silver Tongued. Well educated you are?"

"Well read, Sir," she answered. "But as to formal education..."

"Well that is something that can be remedied. But... intellectual curiosity cannot be taught. It is a gift, like Fire Bending, given at birth by the Divine. And my son tells me you were given both." Azulon stepped out onto a balcony and waved at a nearby servant "Jasmine tea. My usual lunch. And for the young lady... You do like curry?"

"Oh... that's perfectly alright sir, I brought my own lunch."

"Careful, Child, that your attempts at humility don't cross the line into ingratitude!"

"Curry is fine, Sir," she said. "Thank you."

"The same for her," Azulon said The servant bowed and left to complete his task.

From their table, Ursa could see the true vastness of the gardens. She still felt out of place, but the old monarch was treating her with kindness. Ozai's warning played in the back of her mind, but it made no sense to her now. She liked Azulon, he seemed parental, warm, welcoming. He reminded her of Mrs. Tao.

The tea arrived first, and then the rice. Richly seasoned, cooked to the perfect texture, and hot. It tasted expensive. Azulon reached into the pocket, and pulled out a vial red liquid, and added some to the rice.

"The chef never makes it spicy enough for me," he whispered with a smile. "So, my child, has my son's fire bending impressed you?"

"He's talented," she answered. "I wish I looked that graceful while fire bending."

Azulon huffed. "Graceful... Instructors today are obsessed with the artistry of fire bending, and they ignore the skills needed for combat. Aesthetics is essential to fire bending as a cultural art, but this is war time."

"Did you teach fire bending to your sons?"

"To my first son," Azulon said. "But with Ozai... I was old and busy when he was born. I outsourced that task," he sipped as his tea. "I regret that, my first son outshines my second greatly in that particular area of study. Although I hear you are a master of Black Island style. He'd benefit from your practicing with him."

Ursa blushed a little. "Heh, what else has Ozai told you about me?"

"Not much. He speaks to his brother, who speaks to me." His face grew somewhat sad. "I am not his first choice of confidante."

Azulon picked at his rice, and his eyebrow twitched. Ursa watched brief hinds of sadness and anger pass through his face. There it was again, that feeling that she was seeing the mere surface of something vast and perhaps very ugly.

Azulon looked up at Ursa, resuming his paternal smile. "Apparently you made quite an impression on Ozai, from what I hear."

"Really?" she said.

He laughed. "It seems that impression is mutual. I can see the blood rushing to your cheeks!"

"Sorry, Sir."

"Oh, you are carefree and beautiful and ridiculously long. It is perfectly natural for people like you to fall in love and you have no need to apologize."

"Love..." Ursa tested the word on her lips.

"I have no reason to object, your father is a respectable man with noble ancestry from what I gather. Far nobler than your family cares to advertise I've learned."

She paused. "You've been making inquiries."

"I have," He leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. "You do know, Ursa, about your grandfather?"

Ursa sighed. "My grandfather, Avatar Roku, was old with my father was born, and he died when my father was just a toddler. My grandmother took my grandfather and their inheritance, and hid away in Hira'a. Since then, my family have kept our heads low."

"A wise choice, considering Roku's shameful betrayal of his Fire Lord."

"My father has told me the story."

"Do you agree with your grandfather?" Azulon asked.

"Agree with him on what? I never met him."

"Do you agree that Firelord Sozin was wrong in initiating the war?"

Ursa hesitated. "What would you think if I said 'yes?'"

"Well," Azulon said. He leaned back in his chair. "That's not an answer I would expect... As your king, I demand nothing less than honesty when I ask you a question. Though I have learned over the years not to expect it. It would be cruel of me to punish you for such honesty. It certainly would affect how I see you."

"How so?"

Azulon shrugged. "It would tell me that you are noble, that you hold your principles more dear than your standing in society. Perhaps even more than your own life. But it would also tell me that you are dangerous."

"Because I'm willing to disagree with my king?"

"Because you're an idealist. There is no creature in the world more dangerous."

"Idealism sounds like a good thing."

"Oh it is. Idealists sometimes are sometimes the only people who get anything done. They're the only one's with true motivation to change the world around them, They're willing to take risks to accomplish seemingly unreachable goals. They do great things. But an idealist is also dangerous because of those same traits. They are like hurricanes. They don't care what they rain on, or what they knock down. They are blocked by nothing. They're mind is focused only on moving forward."

"I think it's a far jump to go from disagreeing with a war and comparing myself to a hurricane," Ursa said.

"Perhaps," Azulon said. "But I did ask you, my dear. Do you agree with Avatar Roku, that our war effort was a folly?"

Ursa took a deep breath. "In my honest opinion, sir... I don't know. Not because I haven't thought about it. I have. And I can't make up my mind."

Azulon smiled. "Elaborate."

"I understand my grandfather's point of view. I've heard my grandmother explain it. I've read his diaries that my grandmother kept. He thought that the death and violence would be unnecessary. The thought the Fire Nation showed hubris, thinking we knew better than the other nations. He doubted we would even be successful. But I also understand why Sozin felt the war was necessary. He wanted a utopia. He wanted the world that was unified, civilized, Utopian. He believed that was possible. I only can see this war from the perspective of the Fire Nation. I've never lived anywhere else. So, I'm sorry, sir, I can't answer your question better than that. I don't know."

The old man paused to digest the answer. "Not what expected to hear," he said. He seemed impressed.

Ursa felt relieved.

"So tell me, Young Lady," he said. "What other poetry have you read?"

Come early afternoon Azulon grew anxious for another cup of tea and a long nap. He dismissed Ursa for the day. She went to find Ozai. She was surprised she hadn't seen him all day and she wanted to talk to him.

She found him standing in a garden courtyard, moving slowly through his fire bending forms. She joined him, mirroring his movements. When he saw her he moved over a couple feet to give her room.

"Nothing terrible happened," she told him.

He glanced at her briefly, mindful not to completely break his concentration. "That's good, I suppose."

"Your father was very kind to me. He took me to lunch. He's a good conversationalist."

"Lunch... he takes everyone to lunch at some point," he said. "Make an excuse if he invites you again."

"Why?" she said.

"He can be a little bit... It will be obvious in a while what I mean."

Ursa laughed. "Are you jealous?" she said.

"What? No! Why would I be jealous?"

"Because I'm having lunch with him instead of you."

"Oh. I thought you were going to say because he's having lunch with you instead of me. He never asks me to lunch." he said.

Ursa paused. "You and your father aren't very close, are you?"

"No," he stated. "But yes, I would like to have lunch with you. If that's what you're asking."

"You would?"

"We could meet before the fire bending club next week," he said.

"I'd agree to that," she said.

They finished the form.

"Do you want me to teach you a thing or two about Black Island style?" Ursa said.

"If you aren't in a hurry to get home," he answered.

"Okay," she said. "I want you to watch my feet. A key to Black Island style is moving quickly. This is an exercise you can do to practice that." She showed it to him once.

"That's a dance," he said. "Not fire bending."

"What's the difference?" she said.

He laughed "It's girly."

She laughed back. "It was invented by a girl, a girl is teaching it to you, and a girl used it to kick your ass."

He copied her, or tried to. And then he tried again. He laughed. "You make it look so easy."

"Well it is! Okay, Let me explain it more slowly. Left foot, left foot, then right, then..."

"What?"

She sighed. "I was teaching it to you wrong."

"Some master you are," he said.

She landed a playful punch on his arm. "I still know more about it than you. Okay, okay, I think I got it. Left, left, right, jump, and then left again."

She demonstrated. He copied, accurately this time, and then he grabbed her hands, and spun her into his chest. "We need music, I think."

"You want me to sing?" she said.

"You're a singer? How many hidden talents do you have in that pretty little head of yours?"

"You are an insufferable flirt."

"Insufferable. The opposite of suffering. So you're enjoying this?" He turned her around to face her.

She looked up at his youthful face. It was cocky and confident as the day she had first met him, with the same stupid smirk. It looked completely and totally at ease.

She also felt at ease. She could feel every muscle in her body sigh with relaxation and joy. Maybe it was a physiological response to a good laugh, or because of the exercise. But she suspected it was something deeper. A sense of safety and peace, a sense that she was accepted, that she belonged.

For the first time since she had moved north, she felt like she belonged.

Her smile faded.

"What is it?" he asked.

"This is a lot," she said.

"A lot of what?"

"I don't know. I just don't know... What's going to happen if we keep this up? Am I going to..." She wanted to say fall in love. She wasn't sure she was ready for that.

His smirk dissolved. "I did warn you to stay away from this place. And here I am dancing with you in the grass in front of all the servants."

She had an impulse to reach up and touch his face, but she didn't. She sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow, I suppose."

"Hopefully," he said.


	8. The Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa helps Iroh with his paperwork, and learns more about him.

Chapter 8: The son

A new routine developed. Every morning she made her way up the hill to the palace and to the Fire Lord's office. She got better at knowing what needed to be written down, and what was extraneous, as well as how to organize her notes for ease of reading. And after the days work was over, she would meet Ozai in the garden to practice.

Sometimes she thought about not going to practice with him. Every time she did, their conversations would replay in her head as she lay in bed that night. She wondered if their pleasant conversations and laughter were worth such strong emotions and anxiety about the future. What was she getting herself into? But there was a deep joy that came with it too.

Her family saw her mind was elsewhere. She knew eventually she would have to tell them whom she was working for, who was occupying her dreams, but she wasn't sure how she would explain it to them.

On her 13th day of work, Iroh borrowed her. He needed help sorting through the documents he stored in the desk in his study. If Ursa had thought Fire Lord Azulon was talkative, she was wrong.

"It was unlike any place I have been before," Iroh said. "They have waterfalls there taller than anywhere else in the world. Pillars of granite, stretching straight into the clouds. My men wanted to climb to the top of one. I forbade it. We had enough casualties from battle and didn't need more. But if I could go back some time, as a traveler and not a soldier... I brought home some landscape watercolors. I can show them to you if you want. But they don't do it justice. You know they have these butterflies there with bright blue wings, tiny as your fingernail. I need to start an insect collection during my next trip to the Earth Kingdom."

"Wait, what is it you want me to do?" Ursa said.

"Oh!" Iroh turned to his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out stacks upon stacks of parchments. "We need to sort these. I'm not sure how we're going to do that yet, but we'll figure it out." The desktop was soon overflowing with papers. "Normally, I do this sort of thing myself, but I've been running around like a frightened kangaroo-mouse the last several weeks. Hopping from one task to the next, never time to catch my breath. Life is so much simpler when I'm back at the front. I know exactly what I'm supposed to be doing then." He removed another stack from his drawer and plopped it on the desk. "I'm embarrassed I let it get this bad."

"I've seen worse," Ursa said. She had not seen worse.

"Well, luckily I have you here. If for no other reason than to keep me on task while I work. Curse my procrastination! Okay. First we sort by origin. The Earth Kingdom here, Southern Ocean hear, and then from the Fire Nation we'll sort by province, and then...Wait, I should have asked. Do you want some tea?"

"Sure..." Ursa said.

"Okay, you get to work on that, I'll get to work on the tea. I don't trust anyone else to make it for me. They always scorch the leaves and ruin the flavor."

Ursa stared down in horror at the monstrous paper stacks, not even sure where to begin. But at that point they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

A page boy poked his head inside. "Lady Yun-Seo, she's arrived."

"She's in the palace?" Iroh asked. His voice jumped up an octave. "Does she wish to speak with me?"

"She hopes the encounter will be brief and amicable," the page said. "She's on her way at this moment."

"Well go!" he said to the page, "Don't tell her I'm in here!" Iroh's face lit up like a child's. He abandoned the dignity that came with royalty and military service. "Ursa, close the door!"

Ursa watched the prince scramble to his feet and physically squeeze behind the couch. He motioned for her to remain quiet. She couldn't help but laugh, feeling a little uncomfortable. But she closed the door as instructed.

Voices could be heard outside after a moment. Ursa busied herself again with the papers and the door opened again.

A boy looked in on her. His eyes were eager and clever, but also somewhat serious. His face had the roundness of childhood, but his limbs had begun to stretch to their adult size. She guessed he was about twelve. Ursa missed being that age, when she was smart enough to understand how the world worked, but still blissfully ignorant to its nuances.

He scanned the room, and then her. "Who are you?" he said.

"I'm a scribe," Ursa answered. "I work for the Fire Lord."

He looked at the papers. "You're not a very organized one."

Ursa sighed. "Well, these aren't my papers, but..."

"I'm not judging you," he said with a shrug. He stepped into the room. "I'm looking for the Prince though. I've been riding in a carriage all day and it was awful."

"From where?" Ursa said.

The boy picked up a carved paperweight from the desk and played with it in his hands. It enraptured his attention, not as if the conversation bored him, more as if it had caught his eye and he would not be satisfied until he touched it. "The Black Islands. Well a boat ride than a carriage ride."

"In Hira'a?" Ursa said. She smiled. "I'm from there you know!"

"Really?" he said. "No offense, but I don't like it there very much."

"I can imagine why. It's very different from the Capitol," Ursa said.

The boy went over to the couch and sat on it . "It's kind of boring. There are less-"

There was a shout, followed by a shriek. Iroh jumped from behind the couch and grabbed the child, and then held onto him tightly.

"You're back!" Iroh said.

"Geez Dad! You do that every year!"

"And you fall for it every year!"

They laughed. Iroh did not let go. "You damn well better not have gotten any taller. You know I expressly forbade that," Iroh said.

"I did just a little bit," the boy answered. "Sorry."

"Well, at least you're not taller than me yet. You know you'll be in trouble when that happens." Iroh sat next to him on the couch and put his arms around the boy's shoulders. It was easy to see the resemblance with father and son side by side.

"Is your mom here?"

"She's coming."

"This is my son, Lu Ten," Iroh said. "He stays with his mother in the summer. But now it is the fall and so he comes back to me."

"Nice to meet you," Ursa said, with a bow.

Lu Ten didn't respond. Iroh nudged him in the ribs, and the boy remembered his manners. He gave a formal nod, fitting his rank.

The boy's mother finally caught up. She stopped in the doorway, placing her hands on the frame. The Lady Yun-Seo was a glamorous woman, thin as a broom stick, smelling of heavy perfume and laden with jewlry. She looked like the type of person who had opinions about everything and was usually not afraid to share them. She and Iroh stared at each other.

The tone in the room changed. Their marriage and its failure filled the room, to the point where Ursa could feel it, almost smell it even. All of the love, all of the passion, the grief and anger, was all palpable, especially in their faces as they stared at one another.

"Yun-Seo..." Iroh said.

"Iroh..."

Lu Ten looked down at his boots. He was used to this, but hated every second of it.

"Getting some fall-cleaning done, I see..." she said.

"Yes..." Iroh said. "My father's scribe is assisting. Is there... anything I need to know?"

The lady took a deep breath. "His teachers tell me he is falling rather far behind in his reading skills."

"It will be addressed," Iroh said.

"And he is forbidden from fire bending practice for three weeks due to a sprained ankle."

"Noted."

The silence was unbearable for the next three seconds. The lady then held out her arms. The boy went and embraced her. She kissed the child's head and held him close. The sadness on her face was unmistakable.

"I'm fine, Mom," the boy said. "I'll write to you."

"I know, it's just..." She sniffed. Then released her son and smiled at him, before shooting a cold look at her ex. "Remember what I told you. Don't sneak out into the city. Don't play on the riverbank. Drink plenty of water."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She turned to leave.

"Yun-Seo!" Iroh called, stopping her. "Thanks... Thanks for taking care of him. And thanks for bringing him back."

She sighed, nodded, then disappeared.

Iroh took a seat next to Ursa by the desk. He talked to his son while they worked on the papers. They're conversation flowed like water.

"How'd you sprain your ankle?"

"Playing on a riverbank."

"I thought I told you not to do that."

"Well I did.

"Is your mom doing okay?"

"She's fine. But she's annoying."

"Moms are like that, but you appreciate them more as you get older."

"She's not as annoying as her boyfriend though."

"Oh!" Iroh said. "She has a boyfriend now, does she? She didn't tell me about that in her letters."

"Yeah. He's awful."

"How's that?"

Lu Ten continued to play with the paperweight he had picked up earlier. "He won't leave me alone. Ever. Keeps trying to take me fishing and to festivals and stuff. It's annoying."

Iroh laughed. "Well you don't have to like him, but he is your elder and you do have to respect him."

"How come? He's lower class!"

"Most people in the world are lower class. You can't fault him for that."

The boy sighed. "I like it better here, that's all. It's boring there. I go outside and its just forest and farms. I miss the city."

"Lots of open space to practice fire bending," Iroh said. "You know the Black Islands have their own style. Ursa here happens to be rather skilled in it from what I hear. Maybe she'll agree to teach you a thing or two."

Ursa spoke. "I would be amicable to that," she said. She had never had a younger student before, and thought it might be fun being a teacher.

Lu Ten shrugged. "Maybe," he said. He looked at his dad and sighed. "I miss you when I'm there."

"A week from today you'll start missing your mother," Iroh said. "But I miss you when you're there too." The prince sighed. He set down the papers. "Tell you what," he said. "I'll finish up this by lunch time, and then you and I will have the day just to ourselves. We can do whatever you want. We can go into the city. We can take a hike in the mountains. It's your day."

The boy smiled. "There's no way you're going to get through all of those papers by lunch."

Iroh shrugged. "You're probably right. But if I don't I'll quit and finish tomorrow."

"Is Grandfather in his office?"

"He should be. If you want to go pester him."

"Okay." Lu Ten slid off the couch and returned the paperweight to the desk. "I'll meet you back here at lunch time," he said. He ran into the hallway to reacquaint himself with the palace and the family within.

Iroh turned back to Ursa. "I forgot I was supposed to make you some tea."

They had hardly made a dent in the sorting. He prepared the tea with his own pot he kept in the office. That was the main advantage of being a fire bender, the ability to heat water wherever and whenever it was desired.

"That boy..." Iroh said. "He's so tall now. I hate it! I wish he was small enough I could still carry him around in my arms, you know? Or in one of those little slings water-tribe women use to tie their babies to their backs. At least I know he's eating well."

"How come..." Ursa said. She hesitated. "How come... Never mind."

"How come his mother and I are not married anymore?" Iroh said.

"It's none of my business," Ursa said.

"Well," Iroh said. "As friendly as you're getting with my brother it might become your business."

"We're not THAT friendly," Ursa said.

"She didn't like being part of the Royal family," Iroh said, his tone direct. "She didn't like the pressure, the rules, the gossip among the court. And she looked at how old my father was getting, and she thought about one day having to be a Fire Lord's wife... She HATES that her son is part of the royal family. Though perhaps that is a silly thing to hate, because he wouldn't exist if it not for me." He sighed.

"It doesn't sound very fair to Lu Ten, having to spend his whole life missing one parent or the other."

"She left for him, not in spite of him," Iroh said. "She wanted to take him with her, to live with her in the Black Islands full time. She wanted to shelter him. And as painful as it is for me to be separated from him, I understand what she means. I grew up here, I know what he's in for. Here in the Court it can be..." Iroh trailed off. He left the sentence hanging. "But my father wouldn't allow it. Whether she likes it her not, her son is a direct heir to the throne. And he needs to be in the Capitol so that he can learn his place within it, see how everything here works. At least he gets a few months of respite every year."

"Is it that bad here?" Ursa said. "Is it... is it, like..." she was unsure how to ask what she wanted to ask. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. She sighed and decided to tell the truth. She didn't know Iroh very well, but there was something about him she trusted, on a deep and fundamental level. "Ozai told me not to take this job. He told me that I wouldn't like it here, and that is isn't the sort of place where I want to get mixed up."

Iroh shrugged. "You get from this place what you put into it. If you put drama into it, you get drama out."

"Is he the type to insert drama?"

Iroh raised his eyebrows. "It will make more sense when you get to know him better. Look," Iroh said. "I can't tell you what to do with your life. I'm certainly not going to interfere with my brother's happiness. But he's right in a way. This isn't an easy place to live and work."

Ursa thought about that while the worked as fast as they could on the parchments. She thought about it more as they abandoned the organizing for the afternoon and she returned to her regular duties. Iroh was not the first to tell her this. This was not the first time she had sensed that something was amiss with the Palace. But she had not seen for herself what the anxiety was about. It was frustrating. It was such a sharp contract to the way people here acted toward her. Maybe she couldn't see it because she only worked here, and wasn't really a part of it.

But Iroh was right. Her feelings toward Ozai had only been getting stronger. Feelings could become love. Love could become marriage. And marriage would become being entrenched in this world she currently knew nothing about. It weighed heavy in her mind throughout the rest of the day.


	9. Love is a Burning Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa and Ozai meet her brother Bo at the Fire Bending club.

Ursa's knee bounced as she sat through the Fire Lord's last meeting of the day. She was anxious to be free. She had plans. Azulon had engaged one of his advisers in a drawling conversation about the best flavors of rice wine, instead of what they had met to talk about. But finally they finished. Ursa was dismissed, and she bolted from the office, barely remembering not to leave her library bag behind.

She found a powder room to change into her exercise clothes, and then met Ozai out by the gate. The fire bending club was going to meet soon, and they didn't want to be late.

"I told my brother to meet me there," she said to him. "He'll get worried if I'm late."

"You're brother, the short one, the one who has the massive crush on that general's son?" Ozai said.

Ursa laughed. "I don't think a crush is a right word." Even after all these weeks, Bo was still trying to get Jinjie to pay attention to him. It was somewhat adorable. "But yes that brother, considering my other one isn't a fire bender."

"Does he know about me," Ozai said.

"Like does he know we're..."

"Friends."

"I guess," she said. Ursa decided to be honest. "I... I haven't told my family who I'm working for yet."

"Oh," Ozai said. "If I were in your shoes I would have told everyone probably. Scoring an opportunity like this would have gotten my father to leave me alone, at least for a few days."

"Should we go?" she said.

"We're..." Ozai sighed in annoyance "We're waiting for someone."

"Wait up!" a child's voice called out to them. Lu Ten was scrambling down the garden path, a bag over his shoulder, his face brimming with excitement. He stopped next to his uncle and took a moment to catch his breath.

"I thought you were banned from fire bending practice," Ursa said.

"I can watch, can't I?" the boy said.

Behind Lu Ten came a pair of armed guards.

Ozai grumbled at the sight of them. "Oh great, Unibrow and Bug-eyes are coming too," he said, not loud for either of them to hear."

"Dad said I'm not allowed in the city without them," said Lu Ten.

They finally opened the gate and headed into the street.

Lu Ten followed closely behind his uncle as they walked, fawning like a puppy. He talked endlessly, in his happy high-pitched voice. Ozai would respond in single word sentences, trying to appear patient.

"My Dad says that there are fire benders who can make lightning. I don't believe it," Lu Ten said. "My dad says he can do it. But he's never showed me."

"There's a lot of fire benders who can do that," Ozai said, his voice somewhat tired. "It's not that exciting."

"Can you do it?"

"What do I look like? Some sort of electric eel?"

Lu Ten laughed loudly and heartily. "An electric eel!"

"I've seen it done," Ursa said. "My instructor in Hira'a could do it. It was pretty cool."

"Really?" The boy said, turning to Ursa. "What's it like?"

"Loud," Ozai answered.

"I wonder if dragons can make lightning," Lu Ten said. "My dad said he killed a dragon once. I don't believe him."

"Why don't you go ask Bug eyes and Unibrow what they know about dragons?" Ozai said, "They're part of your father's command, aren't they?"

"Why do you call them that?" Ursa said under her breath as they walked.

"Because one has a unibrow and the other has bug eyes," Ozai whispered back.

"You haven't learned their names?"

"I did, but I forgot them."

"He has nick names for everyone," Lu Ten said, loudly. "He called my mom the Gilded Broomstick once."

Ursa suppressed a laugh. It was fitting, but also mean.

"And you were the Slobber Monster," Ozai said to Lu Ten. "You were the most disgusting baby I've ever met."

"I was probably cuter than you were!"

"Well you wouldn't know because you weren't there, so shut your drooling mouth."

"Okay," Ursa said. before you learned my name, what was my nick name?"

"I didn't have one, for you."

"I'm sure you did," she pressed, grinning.

"You don't want to hear it," Ozai said

"Yes I do," she answered. "Tell the truth."

"I will hold my peace."

She pressed him, but hold his piece he did.

Bo waved eagerly when he saw Ursa drawing close. He put his arm over her shoulder when she was close enough, and talked to her as if it had been forever since they'd last spoken.

"I see you got off work in time," he said. "How is all that scribing going?"

"Scriby," Ursa said. "My hand hurts from writing."

"Well, I've been busy too," Bo said. "Mother's been trying to teach me to play the Erhu. Speaking of repetitive motion injuries of the hand."

"You didn't tell me about that."

"She just started today. I think she's bored."

"Just don't let Grandmother get wind of that, because she's going to ask you to perform next time we visit home."

Bo snorted. "I think she would literally die if she heard me. I sound awful."

Ursa looked over at Ozai. He was looking off to the side, trying to ignore both Lu Ten and the sight of Ursa and her brother. Ursa could sense a little bit of pain from him. Perhaps even envy.

"Wait, that's the guy whose ass you kept kicking," Bo said.

"Yeah..." Ursa said.

"You haven't really been going out with him, have you?"

"He works in the palace too," Ursa said.

"What was his name again?"

"Oh uhm..." Ursa paused.

Someone shoved a hat into Ursa's hand. She and Bo both drew cards. The club leader stood on his stump and announced the usual rules. Lu Ten tried to take a number from the hat as well, but Ozai ripped the card from his hand.

"Come on, Uncle! I want to spar! My ankle is fine! I've been locked up all day and I'm bored!"

"You're bored, and I'm annoyed, call it even," Ozai said. "You were instructed to rest, so sit your ass down."

"Hey," Bo disconnected from his sister. "Don't worry. I can practice with you. You don't want to be on your feet with an injury, but we can work on upper body exercises." What ever had the world done to deserve Bo and his kindness? "My name is Bo."

"You're short," Lu Ten said.

"So are you," Bo said.

The boy laughed. "My name is Lu Ten."

"Isn't that the prince's name?"

"Well, duh. I am the prince."

"And I'm the Avatar," Bo said.

Ozai rolled his eyes. "Your sister has been working for the royal family."

Bo looked up. He paused.

Several members of the club laughed allowed.

"You're an idiot, Bo!" Jinjie shouted.

Bo's jaw dropped. "Well. I... I already knew I was an idiot. But I didn't know that he was... That you were..." He turned toward Ozai and gave a polite bow.

Ozai rolled his eyes again, prompting more chuckles from the other fire benders.

Ursa and her brother sat at the feet of Sozin's statue, waiting for their chance in the sparring ring and talking.

"Why didn't you tell us?" he said to her.

Ursa shrugged, picking at a pit of moss that was growing in between the cobblestones. "I guess I didn't want to attract too much attention. I didn't want people telling me to do this or don't do that. I was sort of embarrassed, because I thought I didn't really belong working for the Royal Family."

"Or dating one of them," Bo said.

"We're not..."

"You're dating him, Ursa. You practice with him every day and you went out to lunch with him last week."

She sighed. "I guess I still am embarrassed."

"You don't need to be," he said. "You have a good job, you've found someone you care about, and you're finding your place in this city, just like you wanted when we moved here. It's just that..."

"What?"

"No," Bo said. "I won't say it. It's none of my business. You're practically an adult and you can do what you want."

"Tell me," Ursa said.

"Well, first of all," Bo began. "Ozai is kind of a jerk."

Ursa leaned back, her nose wrinkled.

"I'm serious. Look at him. The way he talks with the other members of the club. The way he talks to his nephew..."

"He has a lot on his shoulders," Ursa said.

"I imagine he does, but, at the same time..." Bo said. He sighed. "Is he nice to you?"

"Yeah." She smiled. She couldn't help it. He was nice to her.

"Do... do you love him?"

Ursa paused. She watched Ozai who was currently in the ring. He was sparing with the club leader, moving with his usual grace and dignity. She noted the warmth spreading through her stomach at the sight of him, the way the tension left her body at the sight of his face. Was that love?

"I... I think I might," she told Bo.

Bo took a deep breath, he looked a little sad and worried. "You're a grown woman. I trust your judgment," he said. "But, just... I get a bad feeling from him."

"Thanks," she said. It meant a lot to Ursa that her brother respected her decisions, even if he had reservations.

"Heaven and Earth, I wonder how Mom and Dad are going to react?" Bo said

"I suppose they're going to have to find out eventually."


	10. And it Makes a Fiery Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa's family reacts with complex emotions when she tells them of her relationship with Ozai.

Ursa picked dinner time to be honest with her parents. She let Bo tell his version of the day's events. She filled in the details.

Quon thought it was hilarious. Her mother got up from her seat and embraced Ursa in a tight hug.

"Is he attractive?" Mother said with a mischievous grin.

"Yeah" Ursa said, with a blush. "And he's a good fire bender. He's funny too."

"Have you kissed him yet?" Mother teased.

"Heaven, Mother! She's not a slut!" Quon said.

Ursa gave a nervous laugh. "No, I haven't kissed him yet."

"She did tell me she loves him, though," Bo said, leaning back in his seat.

"You're seventeen, you'll be in love with someone else in a week," Quon said.

"Oh, stop it you two," Mother said. "If she loves him, she loves him. We need to respect her feelings, even if they change in the future. I was just a teenager when I met your father."

Ursa shot a glance at her father. Father was staring down at his soup. He had not said anything since Ursa had dropped the news.

"A prince!" Mother exhaled. "I told you it was a good idea moving to the Capitol, Han," she said to Father. "Ursa has managed to grab herself a prince!"

"If it lasts," Quon said with a scoff. "Ursa, I suggest you get pregnant with his bastard child. You wouldn't have to marry him, but you could threaten to cause a scandal, and then he'd send you eight thousand pieces of gold every month for rent and clothes."

"That's sounds like a plan," Bo said. "Maybe I should sleep with him instead!"

"And get sent to the coal mines for sodomy?" Quon said.

"Don't be ridiculous, Quon, he'd give me at least 16 thousand a month in hush money for a scandal like that."

"You guys are disgusting," Ursa said.

"Not as disgusting as being in love," Bo said, pointing his finger.

Father took a deep breath. He reached up, grabbed mother's hand and squeezed it. He got up and went into their bedroom. Mother watched him, and realized he wanted her to follow him. Her smile faded into worry.

"I want these dishes washed within the hour," Mother said to the three of them. She got to her feet and went to talk with Father.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Ursa said.

Quon snorted. "How they're going to have to send you to a monastery to be a nun because they can't afford your dowry," he said. "You'll have to shave your head. You want to borrow my razor?"

"That might be better than marrying into the royal family," Bo said with a sigh. His tone became serious. "He... I've honestly never seen Dad look that pale."

The siblings remained quiet for a moment. They strained their ears, hoping to catch snippets of their parents' conversation, but they couldn't make out anything.

"I hate this," Ursa said. "People talking about me, making decisions on my behalf without hearing what I have to say, without even letting me listen in."

Quon gave Ursa a pat on the back. "Sucks being a girl, doesn't it?"

\---------

Mother and father didn't emerge throughout the remainder of the night. From her small bedroom, Ursa could hear them on the other side of the wall. As the night wore on, and they became more and more convinced their children were asleep, their voices grew louder.

Ursa's father was a steady person. He was soft-spoken, warm. But not tonight.

"Han, what harm could come of it! Let her fall in love, let her get out, let her navigate this on her own. She's intelligent enough to make her own decisions."

"That's the problem, Rina! I'm afraid she'll end up in a position where her decisions are stripped away from her! You know what my father went through when he was there. You know what type of pressure he faced. You know why he had to leave."

Mother was annoyed. "He had to leave because he betrayed his fire lord."

Ursa could feel her father holding back his anger at that statement. He was a fire bender. She could feel the temperature rise on the other side of the wall. Father exhaled audibly. The wall cooled. "He disagreed with his Fire Lord, Rina," father said. "Is that where you want your daughter to grow old, to raise her children, in a place where any disagreement is labeled treason?"

"What I want for Ursa doesn't matter," Mother said. "The only thing that matters is what Ursa wants for herself. I want her to be happy."

"So do I! And as her parents we have to step in when she doesn't know any better. Yes! I want her to be happy! Heaven and Earth! Rina! That's what I've been fucking trying to explain to you for the past hour and a half!"

Ursa's father almost never swore. It was like hearing a chicken bark like a dog. The neighbors in the flat above them pounded on their floor to indicate the noise was bothering them

There was quiet. Ursa rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Her heart beat within her chest. Her father wasn't just angry. He was afraid. It struck her that, up to this point, she hadn't been. People had been telling her to be afraid, and she wasn't.

"Han," Mother said, softly. "I know you're anxious, but we don't know for sure that this is such a bad thing. Maybe we should wait, see how this plays out. For crying out loud, we haven't even met this young man yet."

"You're right..." Father said. "We don't have to rush to judgment just yet. Maybe it will work out just fine. Maybe he's a perfect gentleman. Hell, maybe she'll grow bored of him in a week like Quon said." He chuckled. "Did your parents fly into such a panic when you brought me home?"

She laughed. "They saw my face when I looked at you, and they knew at that point there wasn't a damn thing they could do."

"Oh, come here!" he said,

Mother laughed again. "You going to kiss me?"

"I plan on doing a lot more than that!"

Ursa sighed, covered her head with her pillow, and tried to fall asleep before those disgusting love birds could keep her up any longer. They were disgusting, but they were also... adorable. She thought into her own future, picturing herself in middle age. Would she still be in love then? Her parents were proof it was at least possible.

\--------------

Father took hold of Ursa's hand as she was heading out the door the next morning. She paused, and turned to look at him. He hadn't slept much last night. But she could see a gentle smile forming under his thick mustache.

"Hey," he said to her.

"Yeah?"

"I…" he sighed. "Your mother and I are happy for you. But we're also concerned."

"I know. I heard you arguing," Ursa said. "Don't worry, Dad. Ozai is a good man."

"They're always 'good men' when you're first falling in love, Ursa. Maybe he is, but you haven't known him very long. And from what Bo has observed about him…"

Ursa was getting annoyed. She wished her father would trust her judgement. "What could go wrong?"

"Any relationship can go wrong," Father said. "But, what concerns me is… Ozai is not your equal. And if it does go wrong, your options are going to be much more limited. It's going to be harder for you to back out, to assert yourself when you need to. That's what I'm worried about. For now he treats you as a friend, and not the way a prince treats a simple minister's daughter, because that's how he chooses to treat you. He could change his mind and you won't have many options if he does."

She looked down at the floor.

"Has he ever tried to force you do something you didn't want to do?" Father said.

She shook her head.

"Has he ever threatened you, even as a joke?"

"No!" she said.

"Because Bo isn't too keen on him from what I hear."

"Bo doesn't know him like I do."

Father studied her face. "Go," he said. "Live your life, have fun. Make your own choices. But keep us updated okay. I can't protect you if I don't know what's going on in your life."

Ursa felt a twinge of guilt. Father was upset she hadn't been honest with her family earlier. But he wasn't holding it against her.

He leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Work hard, don't stay out too late."

Ursa returned a kiss to his cheek. She headed out into the sunrise, up the hill to the palace.

\---------

Ozai turned a bit ashen when Ursa suggested that he meet her parents.

They were sitting in the grass watching the sunset after an hour or two of fire bending practice.

"Oh, don't worry!" she said. "They're the kindest, sweetest people you'll ever meet. They won't judge you too harshly."

"It's not your father I'm worried about. It's mine," he said.

"Well, your father seems to like me just fine."

"And you're convinced that's a good thing?" Ozai said.

Ursa looked at Ozai's face, noted how he was avoiding looking at her, noted the familiar tiredness it always seemed to carry. He was too young to be tired, was what she always thought when she saw it. But tired he was.

And suddenly Ursa felt something she hadn't expected to feel. She was angry at him.

"For the love of Heaven and all the stars within it. Talk to me!" she said.

He turned to look at her. "Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Bullshit!" she said. "You're always holding something back. You're always keeping something from me, as if you don't feel I'll be able to handle it. Tell me why you're so nervous. Tell me why everyone is telling me to be careful. Tell me what's really going on when I leave, what's causing those bags under your eyes."

He sighed, learning back on his elbows. "I have bags under my eyes because I barely had four hours of sleep last night. I was up until the early morning finishing correspondences my father asked me to write. I thought about putting them off till today, which is what my brother has always done. But then I would have to explain to my father why they weren't finished. And because I didn't finish what he asked me to do, I will have to face some consequence of his invention. It will be humiliating and petty. My brother has never had to deal with those type of consequences. He says he did have to deal with Father's pettiness when he was young like I was, but I never saw it. And while I manage to jump through this hoop, there will be another hoop tomorrow and the day after that. I'm going to have to have just as much work tonight and the night after, and if I take the time to go meet your parents…"

"Really? You're upset over work?" she said.

"It's more than that," Ozai said. "Work is never just work. Not here it isn't."

"You feel trapped," she said.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "And if I meet your parents, they will go to my father and they will begin negotiating terms. And by negotiate, I mean accept whatever terms my father gives them because what right do they have to negotiate with him? And then this… you and me… our… thing… It won't matter anymore. We'll be turned into goods to be traded, leverage to be exercised. They might even start talking about a dowry, so then we're not just traded any more, we're bought and sold. And when we're married and they're nagging us to produce an heir, and telling us how to avoid gossip, and dictating how we behave in public and…"

"You think it will come to that?" Ursa said.

"If I meet your parents it will," Ozai answered.

"You… don't want to marry me?" she said. She wasn't sure if she wanted to marry him or not, but she at least hoped she was wanted.

"I…" he paused. "If we could just be married without all the burdens that come along with it, I might want it. But…" he sighed. "What I want doesn't really matter, and if you join this shit show, what you want won't matter much either," he said.

Ursa looked him in the eye. "What you want matters to me."

He stared back at her, studying her.

"Listen," she said. "You're worried about things far into the future, things that haven't happened, might not happen, and if they do they might not be nearly as bad as you imagine them to be. I… I think I understand. At least a little bit. You have a lot of pressure put upon you. You want to protect me from that. Other people want to protect me from that. I don't want to be protected. I want respect."

"What would you have me do?" he said. "What sort of respect do you want to me to show you that I haven't shown you already?"

"Honesty would help," she said. "That would be a good start." She shrugged. "Maybe you could be honest with yourself. Stop worrying about what the world wants from you and start thinking about what you want for yourself."

He paused. He was silent for a long time. He watched the sun sinking over the wall to the palace ground, which was a rather frightening image in its own poetic way.

"You want to know what I want?" he said.

"What?" she said.

He tore his eyes away from the sunset. His arms grabbed her and pinned her on the grass beneath him. His mouth met hers, and his lips parted over her own, almost like he wanted to consume her. He held her like that, for one second, for two, for three. She could feel her heart galloping in her chest, blood rushing to her cheeks and extremities, her stomach twisting in excitement. Finally, he let go. His hand brushed her hair behind her ears and then cupped her cheek.

"That," he said. "That's what I want."


	11. Rum and Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa and Ozai make a concerted effort to get to know each other better.

Ursa found Ozai bent over a scroll, mouth fixed in concentration, or an attempt at concentration. Lu Ten was sitting on the desk beside him.

"Uncle, have you ever gone to see the theater troop in the Western District?"

Ozai sighed and bent lower over the text.

Lu ten persisted. "Dad said he wants to take me. It could be cool, but it might be boring."

"Well, your father does like his art," Ozai said, half mumbling.

Lu Ten's young face twitched in frustration. "You said you would take me out and practice with me today. You said you were going to teach me a new fire bending form."

"I changed my mind," Ozai answered.

"Is this all you do all day?" Lu Ten said. "Read scrolls and take notes? Work, work, work?"

"Yes."

"You're boring."

"Just you wait, when you're the son of a Fire Lord, you'll be pretty boring too."

"Hey..." Ursa spoke up.

Ozai saw her standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Lu Ten…" Ozai said. "Why don't you go find your dad, and ask him for those reports he was going to prepare for me, and them bring them here?"

"Why would he be doing paperwork for you?" Lu Ten said.

"He just does, Okay? Go find him. It would be a SUPER big help."

Lu Ten rolled his eyes. He took his hint, slid off the table, and went to go complete his task.

Ozai closed the door behind the boy. He turned to Ursa.

"What are the reports about?" she asked.

"There are no reports," Ozai said.

"Oh..." she said.

He took hold of her and kissed her. She eagerly kissed him back. It had been a week since Ursa had told her parents about their relationship. And since then, she had not felt the need to rush home as quickly after completing her duties for the day. They knew where she was.

He held his lips steadily against hers, and then he leaned back to look at her. His hand went up to her face, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"I love your face," he whispered.

She laughed and smiled. "Thanks. Yours is pretty good too."

"Do you have anywhere you need to be?" he asked her.

"No, do you?" she replied.

"Not anywhere I'll be missed," he said.

"Kiss me again," she said. "harder this time."

"Kisses are soft, if you want hardness we might have to find another activity," he said.

"Oh, you know what I mean!" she said.

He placed his open mouth over hers. She could feel his teeth, his warm tongue against her lips. She opened her mouth, and his tongue reached inside. It was strange how just a week ago the idea of doing this would have disgusted her. She wasn't really sure why it was pleasurable now, but it was. She reveled in it. She didn't ever want to be separated from him. The idea of ever being away from him seemed absurd.

He walked her over to a nearby couch, and pulled her onto it with him. She curled up in his chest, taking in his smell, that fresh, sticky smell all men had, but it smelled best on him. She closed her eyes. He put his arms around her and continued to plant kisses on her forehead, her ear, her neck.

"I could fall asleep here," she said.

"Are you going to start purring?" he said.

She laughed. "Meow."

"Great," he said. "Just great."

"What?" she said.

"Now I'm thinking about pussy."

She sat up and playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

"Don't do that!" he caught her hand and laughed. "That makes it worse!" He pulled her hand to his mouth and planted a kiss right in her palm. "I do have half a mind to take you upstairs."

"And do what exactly?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

"To steal your line: you know what I mean."

She sighed. "I'm not ready for that."

"Well... Just... throwing it out there, you know, as an option. For when you are."

"It might help if I got to know you a little better," she said.

"That takes time," he said.

She sat up. "We could speed up the process..."

\------

Ursa and Ozai sat out on the balcony where Ursa had eaten lunch with the Fire Lord. The night was starting to feel chilly. Her parents would want her home soon. But she was busy. Her heart pounded as poured rum into two cups.

"The game is straight forward. I played it with my girlfriends in my home town. Though we used tea, because we couldn't get into the liquor cabinet. But..."

"How do I win?" Ozai said.

"It's not that kind of game," Ursa said. "Okay, more of a challenge than a game."

"And what's the challenge?"

"Honesty," she said. "That's the point of this game. No more walls, no more staring off in the distance and not telling me what it is you truly have on your mind. No more trying protect me. We're going to get to know each other, for real. We have one hour. And in that hour we are allowed to ask each other any question we want. And the other person has to answer, honestly. Or they have to drink."

"And the less I answer, the drunker I get, and the harder it is to keep a secret."

"It's best to save the toughest questions for last," Ursa said.

"This isn't much of a game, really. It's just drinking and talking."

"Oh, I was twelve years old last time I played this! It was fun then."

"You're not going to ask me about military secrets are you?"

"It's not like I have anyone I could sell them to," she said. "We take one drink to start."

He tossed back the rum, and she tossed back hers. It burned on its way down, but also warmed her.

They sat across the table silently for a moment.

"Who goes first?" Ozai said.

"You're a first time player, so I extend the honor to you," she said.

"This is so stupid," he said. "Can I drink instead of asking a question?"

"No!" she said. "You're not very comfortable getting close with people are you?" she said.

"That doesn't count as the first question," he said. "And I did just offer to take you upstairs and fuck you."

"That's not the same thing as closeness!" She said. "Come on. You have to be curious about something!"

He rolled his eyes. "How many men have you slept with before?" he said.

She scoffed. "Really? That's what you want to know?"

"I asked. Answer or drink."

"Heaven and Earth!" she said. "I'm a virgin. But I'm not innocent. I do read."

"You read smut?" he said, almost giggling.

"I read poetry!"

"Do they write smutty poetry?"

"It's not smut!" she said. "It's... ancient Fire Nation culture! That... artistically explores a wide range of human experiences. Including sexuality. Whatever. My turn. And... I'm going to ask you the exact same question you asked me."

"How many men have I slept with? Zero," Ozai said with a smirk. "Not a single man ever. That is illegal in the Fire Nation after all."

"Oh, you cheat, that's not what I asked!"

"No, you asked the same question I asked you, which was how many men you slept with. Now it's my turn. Who's your favorite smut author?"

"Sato the Silver tongued."

"You get off to Haikus?"

"He didn't just write... My turn." She leaned in and grinned. "How many men have you THOUGHT about sleeping with?"

"What?!" He put his hands on the table. "I never..." Then he pointed his finger at the sky, narrowed his eyes, and then took another shot.

Ursa collapsed on the table laughing.

He swallowed the liquor, and took a deep breath to recover from its burn. "What did your brother Bo say about me?"

"When?"

"When you were talking to him during the fire bending club. You went to sit with him under the statue. I can guess you were talking about me, and I want to know what he had to say."

Ursa's laughter faded. She wished she could say she trusted Ozai. She wished she could be sure Bo would be safe if it was known he'd made disparaging comments toward a prince. Ozai didn't seem so petty as to order anything done to her brother. But Father had pointed out clearly that she and Ozai were not equals, and that she had to be careful. As she poured herself a shot and swallowed it, her mind was plagued with doubt. Maybe if she didn't know if she could trust Ozai with information like that, perhaps she shouldn't be here with him at all.

"I'm guessing it wasn't very nice..." Ozai said.

"Nothing for you to worry about," she said. "How many women have you slept with? Which is what I wanted to ask before."

"Three," he said. "All of them officer's daughters. And yes, I remember their names. And No I didn't catch anything from them. Why didn't you get into the Academy for Girls?"

"Because no one had ever taught me mathematics," Ursa said. "My father couldn't afford a tutor and the nearest school was ten miles away. How come I've never met your mother?"

"Ovarian cancer. It's a real bitch, I don't recommend it. Is it true that your grandfather is the Avatar?"

"Yes, but I never met him. How old were you when she died?"

He paused. "Ten," he said. "And I'm not answering any more questions about her. Why do you like me?"

"Why do I...?"

"I mean, for you, you're easy to like," he said. His eyes focused in on her, his voice dropped, almost to a mumble. "Gentle as a summer rain drop, soft as a spring breeze, intelligent, an excellent fire bender. You have a beautiful face, and a really, REALLY beautiful body. But me... I can think of my rank; I can think of my fire bending talent... but other than that..."

"Your humor for one thing," she said. "The fact I know how much you care about me when you look at me. The fact you were the first stranger in this city who asked me what my name was. The fact when I'm around you I feel like I can relax."

He was silent for a moment.

"You also look really good without your shirt on," she added.

He covered his eyes and grinned. "Well, I knew that last one already. Your turn."

"I don't know. I'm almost out of questions. Favorite animal?"

"Phoenix," he said.

"Those aren't real."

"You didn't say it had to be real!" he said.

"That's..." she laughed. "That's kind of dorky. But also kind of cute."

"It's not... Ugh. What would I have to do to convince you to go upstairs with me?"

Ursa laughed. "I don't know for sure, but losing that stupid smirk and quit being so crude, that might help," she said.

"Oh that's not an answer," he said. "If you don't know you're going to have to drink."

"You're trying to get me drunk."

"This was your idea, you made the rules."

She rolled her eyes and took another drink. "If I did sleep with you, and I got pregnant, what would you do?"

"You women... you can be so serious sometimes, take the fun out of everything."

"You men are reckless, and we have to be the smarter sex and keep you in line," Ursa said.

"I'd take care of you," he said.

"Really?"

"Of course I would."

"You say that now, but if it happened, would you actually support me? Or are you just saying that so you can have your fun with me?"

"I'm not a monster," Ozai said.

"You don't look like a monster now," Ursa said. "But changing circumstances can reveal new things about a person."

Ozai looked her in the eye. "To be more specific. I would have a room set aside for you in the palace. I'd make sure you always had a place here."

"Not eight thousand a month in hush money?" she said.

"In what?"

"Never mind."

"But I would," he said. "You and our child would want for nothing. And if my father didn't allow it, then I'd leave and care for you myself."

Ursa read his face. His unbearably handsome face. He looked so sincere. His dilated pupils were fixed upon her, almost in worship. She wanted to believe him. But men said a lot of things. "Alright," she said. "And what's your question?"

"What would you say if I asked you to marry me?"

Ursa leaned back. And then she looked down at the table. She was only seventeen. To be married... She wanted to take another shot, but she had already had three, and could already feel its effects.

"Are you... are you proposing to me now?" she said.

He paused. "This is all hypothetical," he said.

Ursa didn't quite understand the feeling that came over her. It was warm and joyous but also filled with a sadness and fear. She couldn't say yes. "I'd... I'd say that I had some questions," she said.

"Well, that's what we're sitting here for, isn't it," Ozai said to her.

"What would I do, if I were your wife?"

He shrugged. It was adorable watching him shrug. His strong shoulders moving up and down, that sculpted face twisted in a caricature of confusion. "Probably the same sort of things you usually do, but then you would go to bed with me after you were done."

She laughed. "Would I be caged here, in the palace?" she said. "Waiting in our apartment for you to come home every day so I could massage your feet and rub your shoulders, with no life of my own?"

"There's plenty of things to do here in the palace and its grounds," he said. "I mean... for the boys there is anyway. I'd assume there are just as many activities for women. What do women do? Embroidery? Reading?"

"But what would be my job?" she said.

"Your..."

"Yes, Ozai. What would be my function? Besides bearing you sons and rubbing your shoulders. What would I do for the Fire Nation? What would I contribute?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You've asked about four questions, I think it's my turn."

"Ozai..."

He paused. "I plan to clean up the court, that's what my job will be. I guess you could join me in that."

"Taking the city by its balls and beating it till the dirt falls out?" she says.

"We could start tomorrow. I plan on following up with my investigation of the magistrates in the capitol. You could come with me."

"Cleaning up the court..."

"You woman are good at cleaning, aren't you," he said with a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes, but she couldn't resist the temptation to laugh. "You want me to go upstairs with you, and you aren't making your case very well."

"I'm a patient man," he said. "I figure you'll come around."

"Yes," she said. "I can go with you into the city tomorrow afternoon. You might need a note-taker."

He reached forward and squeezed her hand. His broad hands had a tight grip, almost like a father holding onto a toddler to stop it from running into a crowd. It was a little overwhelming. She wanted to pull her hand back but wasn't sure if he would let her.

"I don't remember whose turn it was," she said.

"Oh, who even cares," he said.

She sighed. "Then I had better go home. My father won't be happy I was out so late."

"Don't go," he said.

"It's going to be harder to explain if I don't come home at all," she said.

He leaned over the table and kissed her again, not letting go of her hand. It was a full kiss, open mouth to open mouth, not a mere peck. He almost knocked over the bottle of rum as he reached up to cradle her jaw in his hand.

She let him kiss her for a moment, then pulled away. "Ozai..." she said.

"What?" he said.

"I have to go!" She wiggled her hand free and stood.

He reached his hand forward. She thought he was going to grab hold of her skirt, but he merely touched it, perhaps refraining himself. He nodded. "Tomorrow afternoon," he said. "We'll meet at the gate. Bring ink and paper."

She nodded back.

"You've had a bit to drink. I'll have a pair of my guards take you home," he said.

"That would be nice."

"They'll meet you at the gate."

She bowed to him, and went back to the drawing room to find her library bag before meeting the guards and heading home.

\-----------

Her father was indeed angry she had come home late, and though his anger was usually gentle, Ursa still found it unpleasant. He had stayed up late waiting for her, and struggled to keep his cool when he smelled liquor on her breath.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm not going to embarrass the family. I kept my wits about me."

He took hold of her shoulders. "You could never embarrass me, Ursa, never! No matter what happens I would never be embarrassed by you! I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about your safety. You can't do this. You can't worry me you like this!"

She looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry, Sir," she said.

He pulled her head into his chest. "Were you with him?" he asked her

She smiled. "Yeah."

"You want to tell me about it?" he asked her.

"If you want to hear," she answered.

They sat together on the couch, and Ursa told him about how she and Ozai were going into town the next day, and how they were making an effort to get to know one another. After weeks of keeping things to herself, it was nice to share them.

"I think he really does care about me," she said.

Her father chuckled. "I doubt he cares about you as much as your mother and I do."

"Probably not," she said. "but..."

"But what?"

"He brought up marriage."

Father's face darkened slightly. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"I mean, just hypothetically."

"Well, the two of you haven't known each other long enough to consider that," Father said. "Although when I was a young man most marriages were arranged. Here in the capitol many still are, especially among the nobility."

She laughed. "Are you planning to arrange one for me?"

"Your mother and I believe that decisions like that belong in your own hands," he told her. Father gave her shoulder a squeeze. "We love you with everything we have, Ursa. With everything we are. And... And if act angry, or defensive, that's why. We don't want you to get hurt."

"I can take care of myself," she said.

"I... I know. But if worse came to worst... I would... die for you. I'm sure your mother and your brothers would say the same thing. Please, PLEASE, don't leave me for someone who can't say the same."


	12. Politcs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa tests herself in a political situation. Ozai and Ursa's families finally meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I literally do not care if this chapter is bad. I realized I have to stop obsessing over perfection and just post yo. You guys are getting this typos and all.  
> Also things start getting... hem hem... steamier toward the end of this chapter *WINK*

During the carriage ride into the city, Ozai explained to Ursa how the Capitol was broken into nine districts, each with a magistrate, each with its own system of collecting taxes, enforcing laws and educating the local children.  
“We can't walk?” she said.  
“The carriage projects authority,” he answered. “I have enough trouble getting these clowns to take me seriously.  
“Even as a prince?”  
Ozai's voice darkened slightly. “A second born prince. I don't have as much authority as you might think.”  
The carriage slowed, then jerked forward as they stopped. She looked out the window. A large house stood in front of them. A nervous-looking man ran out to greet them.  
“Did they know you were coming?”  
“No,” Ozai said. “He should have expected it, though. This is the third time I've visited this idiot. Every time he drafts some excuse about why he won't let me see his records.”  
They stepped out of the carriage.  
The nervous man bowed low. Ozai stripped his face of all its emotion. He nodded curtly, and walked forward with his hands braced behind his back. He looked ten years older in that instant.  
Ursa grabbed her library bag, which was stuffed with documents and stationary, and followed.  
The man led them inside, trying to hide the fact they had taken him by surprise. He poked his head into an office to announce the prince's arrival. The magistrate inside swore, and then dismissed the official he was currently meeting with in order to clear a chair for Ozai. He ordered his page boy to fetch refreshments.  
Ursa took a seat on the sideline as she normally did, and pulled out her supplies to get to work. She had taken notes for dozens of meetings like this by now, and she knew exactly what she was doing.  
“The minister of Finance told me not to speak with you,” the magistrate said, half in a whisper.  
“He is a minister of Finance. I am a prince,” Ozai answered.  
“Sir, I don't want trouble.”  
“Than don't make it.”  
“I may not have a choice in the matter. You have put me in a serious bind. If I report to you, than I will have to face the other magistrates and explain to them that I betrayed their trust. You're asking me to report on their misdoings. I don't know anything about their misdoings, and even if I did...”  
“Look,” Ozai said. “I only wish to keep this city clean. All I need you to do is allow me to look at your record books.”  
“But that would be a betrayal of trust, Sir.”  
Ozai laid his palms flat on the table. “Allow me to correct myself. I am not asking to see your record books. I am ordering it.”  
“On your father's authority?”  
Ozai paused... “On mine.”  
“Are you going to have me arrested?”  
“I might?”  
The Magistrate sat up a little straighter. “You are going to go against your father's wishes and arrest an official he appointed himself, while conducting an investigation he does not approve of?”  
Ozai glared at the older man and didn't answer.  
They were arguing in circles.  
Ursa coughed. She pulled a parchment from her bag. Notes Ozai had collected already after interviewing a lesser cleric from this district.  
She put them in front of Ozai wordlessly.  
He looked at her.  
“Sir,” she said, playing the role of the servant. “Evidence you have collected on the finances of this district so far. If the Magistrate cares to see it...”  
Ozai eyed her for a minute, and then understood. He turned back to the official. “We don't need your cooperation. However when this is over, there will be a list of good guys and bad guys. You have a choice of which list you would like to be on.”  
The magistrate didn't seem impressed with the single document.  
“Oops!” Ursa reached back down into her bag. “It seems I forgot some of it, Sir.” She pulled out a large stack of documents and put them in front of Ozai as well. “Is that all of it?” She reached forward and thumbed the corner of the stack. “No, it isn't...” she said. “Forgive my disorganization, Sir.” She added a stack of blank parchment under the stack to make it taller.  
Ozai grabbed the pile of papers and pushed them toward the magistrate. “I do believe a good deal of these documents talk about you. You can read them if you want.”  
The magistrate did not look at the papers. He sighed. “You can see my record room if you want. But it is well organized and I expect you to honor that.”  
Ozai smirked. “Of course...” he said. “Everything will be put back as we found it. Except for the ones I need to take home for further study.”  
The magistrate glared as Ozai stood.  
He handed the papers back to Ursa who returned them to her back. The Magistrate stood and removed a key form his belt to unlock the record room, allowing the prince to step inside.  
“You need to bring me to more of these functions,” Ursa said to Ozai, as the two of them browsed the books and scrolls in the dusty room.  
“And admit I haven't mastered this myself?” he said with a smirk. “Never!”  
They found what they needed quickly. Ozai scanned through a document, and sighed with frustration when he saw the size of the numbers it contained.  
“Of course I'll have to study it carefully to know for sure, but look at this! 13 thousand gold pieces just from the River Bank neighborhood. Which doesn't match at all what the treasurer has seen. Isn't that ridiculous?”  
Ursa didn't have the slightest idea of what she was looking at. “I'll take your word for it.”  
With her bag filled with books and scrolls, digging into her shoulder, Ursa emerged from the record room with Ozai. But then she stopped.  
Her brother Quon was there, speaking with the Magistrate. Father had been bringing him to work and sending him on errands in the past several weeks. They made awkward eye contact. And then Quon noticed Ozai who was motioning for Ursa to hurry.  
“What are you doing here?” he said with a bit of a laugh.  
“Working,” Ursa said. “I'm guessing you're doing the same?”  
“No,” Quon said. “I just go about town engaging public officials in boring conversation for the shear enjoyment of it.”  
“Quon!” Father stepped out of the hallway. “Filter your words, please!”  
Quon turned to the magistrate, and bowed as an apology. The Magistrate rolled his eyes. He was not payed enough for what he had to deal with. No wonder he was most likely embezzling tax money.  
Quan glanced down the hallway. “Is that him?”  
Ursa looked down the hall to Ozai who was already waiting by the carriage. “Yeah...” she said.  
“He's shorter than I expected him to be,” Quon said with a snort. “But hell, 8,000 a month is 8,000 a month.”  
“For the love of... Filters, Quon!” Father sighed.  
“Ursa!” Ozai called out from the outside, he was ready to leave.  
“Duty calls, it sounds like,” Father said to Ursa.  
“Yeah,” Ursa said. She gave her brother and her father a smile and ran outside with her bag of documents.  
“Who was that?” Ozai said as they climbed back into the carriage.  
“My brother,” Ursa answered. “And my father.”  
“Oh,” Ozai said. He didn't have anything else to say on the matter.

Convincing Ozai that he needed to meet her parents was harder than Ursa thought it would be.  
“I've already told you why I'm hesitant,” he said to her. “I don't want all that damnable politics getting involved.”  
“Ozai, the politics will catch up to us eventually. But now we have a choice. If we initiate it, we can control how it plays out.”  
“It doesn't have to catch up to us.”  
“You don't think it will?” Ursa said. “You don't think my father start asking me one day if I want to get married, to you or someone else? You don't think your father's going to start pressuring you to start a family? You don't think sooner or later we will have to make decisions on where this is going?”  
He sighed in frustration. “You women, always so anxious to take the fun out of everything.”  
“Life isn't all fun,” Ursa said. “Meet my parents,” she said. “Make this official. Let's get ahead of this before it bites us in the ass!” she said.  
Ozai rolled his eyes. “Bites us in the ass... are you trying to turn me on?”  
“You are hopeless,” she said.  
He leaned down and kissed her. “At least around you.”

The arrangements for Ursa’s parents to meet Ozai were far more elaborate than she imagined they would be. Ursa at first thought Ozai was avoiding the issue when he told her he was negotiating arrangements with his father. A week passed, and Ozai wouldn't tell her what his father had said. But the look on Ozai's face, reddish, brows knit, furious, whenever he left Azulon's office was telling. Ozai was fighting for the meeting and he was at the mercy of higher powers.  
Ursa’s parents were not asked when they were available for such an event. An invitation simply arrived with the date and time already determined. There was to be a dinner party at the palace. Ursa’s mother bristled with excitement. Her father did a terrible job pretending he felt the same.  
Ursa’s mother spent the next few weeks helping her brothers master more courtly manners. She talked about it endlessly. She took Ursa to buy new jewelry and silks and perfumes, what she called “the fun part.” Ursa had never taken much interest in fashion as a young girl, but she enjoyed spending time with her mother as they shopped and planned how to arrange her hair.  
The day picked was a week before the winter solstice festival, when the dry season was at its most brutal and the desert around the Capitol city completely lost the little color it had.  
On the evening of the event, Ursa and her family made their way through the royal palace. Ursa walked in front since she knew the way to the throne room. Her brothers walked behind her snickering and commenting on the décor and the size of the place.  
Mother was incredibly excited to visit the palace. She commented on every detail with high-pitched excitement. Even the way the guards nodded when they opened the gate was interesting to her.  
“Now boys you know that when you meet the Fire Lord, you will be expected to kneel before him,” Mother said. “A simple bow of greeting will not do. Bo, remember I told you not to… Han, look!” She grabbed father’s arm.  
Ursa’s father had remained entirely silent since leaving the apartment. He had walked in the back, keeping his eyes on the floor in front of him. The back of his neck was soaked with sweat. He jumped in alarm at Mother's sudden touch.  
Mother pointed up at a piece of art sitting between two windows. A stylized portrait of Avatar Roku. Ursa had seen her grandfather’s portrait hanging there many times. She wondered why it was allowed to remain hanging after the conflict between Roku and Sozin.  
Han of Hira'a took a deep unsteady breath. He was the spitting image of Roku, which was obvious looking at the portrait. He had told Mother before they'd left that he had no intention of attracting trouble to himself, but that he feared he was walking into trouble all the same. He just hoped his family resemblance wouldn't escalate the issue. Roku had been the elephant tiger in the room since Ozai and Ursa had met, and now perhaps, Ursa could understand her father's nerves.  
At that moment a guard approached the family. The five of them turned when he cleared his throat. “You're the dinner guests?” he said.  
Father nodded.  
The guard nodded back. “Your presence is now welcome in the throne room.”  
Mother nearly jumped with anticipation.  
Quon nudged Ursa in the ribs as they followed the guard. “Are you sure you don't just want to get pregnant with his bastard and get this over with?” he said, glancing over at the sweat that continued to soak through Father's collar.  
“At least you get a free dinner out of the deal,” Ursa said.  
Quon sighed. “I can't argue with that.”  
Ursa's parents were led into the throne room, Ursa and her brothers were ushered in behind. Azulon was seated before them, in formal dress, flames dancing before him like a tall fence separating him from his inferiors. Ozai was sitting on his left, and Iroh on his right.  
Any sense of familiarity Ursa felt in the presence of royalty suddenly vanished. She was as intimidated as she had been her first day at the palace, if not more so.  
Her father stepped forward, taking his responsibility as head of the house. He knelt on the smooth floor and bowed. Mother followed suit, and then Ursa and her siblings. The family sat with their noses pressed to the floor, silence in the air above their heads.  
And then Azulon spoke. “Han of Hira'a, please rise.”  
Father sat up, the movement of doing so almost giving him vertigo. He looked like he wanted to vomit. Ursa and her family followed.  
“You honor us with your invitation, my Lord,” father said, his voice nervous and hoarse  
“You honor my family with your acceptance,” Azulon said. “And your daughter is a credit to your house. Since her employment she has demonstrated aptitude, intelligence, and mild-mannered grace fitting to this Court.”  
“Thank you, My Lord,” Father said.  
Ursa hated this. Men discussing her without her being allowed to weigh in, as if she were a tool Han had constructed and sold to Azulon to use. Ursa could see what Ozai meant. She was now a good to be traded, not so much a person. She knew her father didn't see her that way, but he had little choice but to play along. Ursa felt bad for him.  
“Your daughter has provided me details of her history, though it is perhaps more proper if I verify them with her father,” Azulon said. “I am assuming this affair of your daughter's has your blessing?”  
Father struggled to find words. “My daughter's health, happiness,and safety is my only concern, Sir,” he said.  
Ozai coughed. “Father, I think....”  
Azulon continued. “It is not proper for young women to gavotte about town with young men recklessly. I do not want my son spoiling her reputation to the point where he himself is unable to marry her if I want him to.”  
Ozai coughed again. Again he was ignored.  
“Would you not agree, Han?” Azulon pressed.  
Father continued to sweat. “My daughter has not discussed the possibility of marriage to the prince, My Lord. It was my understanding that this relationship would be allowed to progress at its natural pace.”  
Azulon leaned forward. The flames in front of his throne rose an inch or two in annoyance. “I don't need to remind you, sir, that you no longer are living in a farming town negotiating the politics of peasantry. Here in the Capitol, here in MY Capitol, we place value on adherence to traditions and propriety. We royalty and nobility are tasked with leading the country, and so our own conduct must be pure.”  
Ozai coughed a third time. Azulon finally turned. “Heaven and Earth! Ozai, do you need a glass of water?”  
“I simply think...” Ozai said.  
“I am bargaining for YOUR future,” Azulon said. “Allow me to work in peace!”  
Father and Mother looked at each other. The exchange startled them. Quon sitting next to Ursa suppressed a nervous laugh which came out as a cough of his own. The temperature of the room rose a couple degrees, which tended to happen when fire benders were gathered together and under tension.  
Iroh stepped in. “Father, In my humble opinion, it might be best to talk business after we have all had some food and drink and a nice pot of tea. After all, our invitation did say we were inviting our guests to dine. Surely they have been saving their appetites, and such things can be difficult to discuss on an empty stomach.  
Azulon turned from his second son to his first, and paused. Ozai's body visibly relax now that his father's gaze had been removed.  
“Of course, our guests seem more than patient to wait,” Iroh said.  
Azulon slowly grinned. “Bless you, Iroh. An old man such as myself forgetting basic hospitality. After dinner!” he said. “Help me to my feet and fetch my cane. We'll proceed to the dinner table.”  
Iroh stood and took Azulon's hand, lifting him to a standing position.  
Ursa and her family were led into the dining room separately from the Royal Family, through a door on the side. Servants directed them where to sit, and then immediately filled their cups with expensive, pungent liquor. A pair of musicians sat in the corner of the room plucking away at a zither. Ursa's family all looked at one another in awkward anticipation.  
The Fire Lord entered the room from a separate, larger door, Iroh hanging on to him to keep him steady. Ozai came in behind them, looking anxious. He made brief eye contact with Ursa, and raised his eyebrows in a comic display of exasperation. She smirked.  
Iroh helped his father into his seat at the head at the table and then took his place on Azulon's right. Ozai was seated on the other side, between Ursa and his father. The servants hurried to fill their cups. The conversation resumed.  
“When I asked you to meet my family I imagined tea in our apartment, not all of this.”  
“Look, I didn't agree to this either,” Ozai said.  
“Drink, Han!” Azulon said, his familiar joviality returning. “You look as nervous as a mouse in a serpent-lizard's cage. I've had the best molasses whiskey from my cellar brought up for the occasion. It would be an insult to not indulge!”  
Father took a nervous sip.  
Azulon gently interrogated Father about his work in the Ministry of Agriculture and Economics. He put Father on the spot on contentious things like tax rates whether or not the military should attack the Northern Water Tribe. Father would pick his answers carefully, and Azulon would demand that he clarify and speak more honestly than he dared. He also interrogated father on Ursa.  
“And Ursa is your only daughter?” Azulon said.  
“Yes.”  
“I did always want a daughter,” Azulon said. “My wife and I had hoped Ozai would be a female, but not even the Fire Lord himself can make demands on the spirits.”  
Ozai looked up at the ceiling, his impatience growing.  
“And you did not consider marrying her earlier?” Azulon said.  
“She's only seventeen,” Mother said. “We were hoping that when she got to the Capital she would be...”  
Azulon looked at mother and held out his hand. He motioned for Father to answer the question.  
Mother's smile faded somewhat. Father looked at her, hoping Azulon had not actually instructed his wife to be silent, but it was no use. Father coughed and played along.  
“She is too young for that in our opinion. We were hoping when we reached the Capital she could spend a few more years working on her education, attend a proper school.”  
“Well that can be arranged,” Azulon said. “We certainly have the funds to admit her to the University, and considering she does work on my staff...”  
Mother smiled. “You could do that?” she said. “Ursa did you hear that?”  
But Azulon held out his hand once again, motioning for her to remain quiet.  
Mother looked at Father. Father tugged at his collar in annoyance. Bo leaned over and muttered something to Quon, who once again disguised his nervous laugh as a cough.  
“Of course, Han,” Azulon said. “That would be conditional to your performance in office. With our families mingling as closely as they are, I will be watching your career rather closely. What do you think on the upcoming Counsel on the West Coast Riots? You will certainly be expected to vote.”  
Father took a deep breath and prepared once again to give a very careful answer.  
“I don't think my father is enjoying himself,” Ursa said. “He didn't realize he'd have to answer so many questions.”  
“My father is testing his loyalty,” Ozai whispered to Ursa. “Pushing his buttons and seeing how he reacts.”  
“How do you know?” Ursa said.  
“He does the same thing to me,” Ozai answered.  
“How's my father doing?”  
Ozai squinted. “Staying cool under pressure it looks. My father is going to grow frustrated if he can't find his breaking point.”  
“Let's hope no one brings up...”  
“Your grandfather?” Ozai said with a smirk. “Trust me, that conversation will come later in the evening. Likely during desert. My father will likely try to wear him down a little first. Poor Han is in for a rough night.”  
Ursa sighed. She watched her Father shoot sideways glances at his mother while he spoke with Azulon. She watched Iroh observe quietly, knowing he was there to keep the peace and represent the family, not to showcase his own opinions. She watched her Quon examine the glazed patterns on his ceramic cup, and watched Bo stare at the art on the wall nearby.  
The liquor was refilled. Azulon emphatically urged everyone to drink. He himself had had twice as much as everyone else. The food arrived at that point. Duck in a sweet and very spicy sauce with rice and vegetables. The smell overwhelmed the room.  
It was only then that Mother was allowed to speak. Despite the growing discomfort the entire family was experiencing, she was still somewhat star struck to be in the presence of royalty. She asked plenty of questions, barely remembering not to speak with food in her mouth. Azulon was less aggressive with her, more eager to keep her talking, hoping to learn details about Ursa's personal life. He fished out of her that Ursa had never had never been courted by man before, that Father expected Quon to learn the trade of public service, that Father was planning to vote no on an upcoming proposal.  
She made the mistake, or perhaps the genius decision, to ask Iroh about his latest campaign in the Earth Kingdom. Iroh lit up like a festival after sundown. His talkative nature overtook him, and he engaged Ursa's family in a story about the walls around Ba Sing Se. That ended Azulon's interrogation, and brought forth a more egalitarian conversation, in which people could comment and ask questions. Everyone relaxed visibly. It took Ursa a while to notice Iroh had done this on purpose, stopping his father from speaking. He had the privilege of being a first born son, and could do this without fear. For a warrior he was an extraordinarily talented diplomat.  
Throughout the meal, Ozai and Ursa were expected to be mostly silent. Father occasionally tried to ask Ozai some questions, the type a father usually asks the man who is courting his daughter. Ozai would open his mouth, only to have Azulon speak on his behalf.  
“And you, Ozai, are you planning a career in public service?”  
“We are hoping he will follow his brother's footstep and make his mark in the military, though he resists me when I encourage him to pursue such a route,” Azulon said. “I may have to force his hand in the matter. It would at least get him to work on his fire bending more seriously.”  
Ozai tried again to speak to correct his father but he was ignored.  
It was no use. Ursa would have to arrange a more casual meeting with her parents later, one where everyone could relax and be themselves. But in the mean time Ozai was growing more and more frustrated. Ursa watched the ridges of his ears turn crimson, could feel his fire-bender's energy heating the air around him. She watched him take a deep breath as Azulon laid bare an inaccurate summary of his recent life, and then she felt his hand.  
“At least I have you,” he whispered to her.  
His palm grasped her knee under the table.  
Ursa's heart began to race slightly.  
“What are you doing?” she whispered back.  
He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. His hand massaged her and crept higher. Only the light silk of her skirt separated his broad fingers from the soft skin of her inner thigh. Blood rushed to her face and a smirk crept onto his.  
Ursa saw her parents sitting across from her, looking as uncomfortable as ever, but oblivious to what was going on before them. Her brothers continued to look bored. Azulon continued to drone, on and on like the base line in an orchestra, and Iroh continued to play the diplomat. And Ozai's hand continued to move north.  
“My father is sitting right there,” Ursa whispered.  
“And mine is here too,” he leaned into her ear. “And we're getting away with it!”  
“You're getting away with it,” she said. “I'm not doing anything.”  
His hand went as high as it would go, and slithered in between her legs and her body. “Do you want me to stop?”  
His fingers burrowed into the silk of her skirt. Her body reacted. The muscles in her stomach twisted, sweat formed at the back of her neck. She was about to brush his hand away, but she didn't. She was humiliated he had chosen to do this here and now in front of everyone, without warning her of his intentions. She was angry that he hadn't even asked. But she didn't tell him to stop. She should have. She should have stood up and slapped him in the face. But now that his fingers had found their mark she couldn't pull them away.  
He removed his hand, and used it to eat. He downed his cup of liquor, and shoveled the last bites of rice into his stomach, as if he was in a hurry.  
“Meet me in the northern drawing room,” he said into her ear.  
“How would I even get away?”  
“You'll figure it out. I can wait.” He raised his hand above his head and coughed once again.  
Azulon looked at him like a mad dog. “What do you need, Ozai.”  
“I wish to be excused,” he said. At twenty one years of age, was asking to be excused like a small child wanting to escape his school-teacher's lecture. But he was used to this, and he knew he would survive whatever abuse he endured because of it.  
“You're not making a very good impression on our guests,” Azulon said. “Good Heaven, you insist and insist I invite them to dinner and then you hardly say a word, and now you want to leave?”  
Ursa's parents looked at each other uncomfortably. The lord of the entire Fire Nation had no need to put on graces before a simple minister and his family. He would berate his son wherever and whenever he pleased.  
Iroh fidgeted. Reading the situation carefully, wondering if he would need to chime in.  
“I've taken ill,” Ozai said, his voice emotionless. It was such a juvenile lie. But it was the one he had chosen. “In fact I haven't been feeling quite myself since this morning.”  
“Ozai, we are gathered here on your behalf, you will not disappear into your chambers as you are wont to do,” Azulon said.  
“It really cannot be helped, sir,” Ozai said. He was standing his ground.  
“Well, if he isn't feeling well, we won't be offended,” Ursa's mother said. She quieted when Azulon shot her another offended glance.  
Quon whispered something into Bo's ear. Bo sputtered and tried not to laugh.  
Azulon sighed. “Fine. I will excuse you, but you will have to make it up to our guests at a later point. Do you understand.”  
Ozai stood and bowed. “Understood.” He turned and left.  
Ursa was left without him. She was condemned to silence as well while Azulon resumed interrogating her father. She wondered if she would meet him or not. Her mind swirled with mixed emotions, while the lower half of her body stirred remembering his touch.  
A man had never touched her between her legs before. And she knew that was only a prelude to what Ozai truly intended if she were to meet him in the drawing room. He had whetted her appetite, that was for sure. But she was also angry with him. She wasn't sure if she wanted to reward him for embarrassing her like that. She looked down at her food, blocking out the conversation.  
The plates were cleaned eventually, another round of liquor was drained, and Ursa still hadn't really been allowed to speak. She would be able to speak to Ozai, and he was waiting. And she was... curious. She decided she had had enough deliberating.  
She quietly told her family and her king that she needed to use the powder room.


	13. The taste of love is sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey so what do this chapter, a sporting goods chain store, and a room full of people named Richard have in common? Dicks dicks dicks. (this is the sex chapter. Consider rating changed to E for this chapter.)

She felt like she was making a terrible mistake as she made her way down the hall to meet Ozai. She felt like a dog eating its own vomit, or a moth circling an oil lamp. She wondered why she was doing this but she stopped wondering and decided to do it anyway.

"Fuck it!" she said aloud to herself as she walked.

She was almost to the northern wing when someone grabbed her. Ozai swept his arm under the crook of her her knees and lifted her into the air.

She shrieked and then laughed.

He shushed her, grinning. "Not so loud! At least not here in the open."

She put her arms around his neck, hoping her shoes didn't fall off while her feet dangled above the ground. "Where are you taking me?" she said.

"I haven't decided yet," he said, looking into her eyes. "You're so light I could carry you like this for miles."

"Well you're the one making all the decisions apparently," she said. "I can't even walk with you holding me."

"Not all of the decisions," he said. "You decided to come find me."

She narrowed her eyes.

His grin faded.

"Fuck them," Ozai said.

"What?"

"Fuck my father. And fuck..."

"Mine?" Ursa said. "You know he didn't have any say in how that meeting went."

"Well, it doesn't matter. I'm done," he said. "I'm done sitting down and doing as I'm told and worrying about what is expected of me and of us, and... We don't have to play their game. I don't want to deal with all of that Ursa. I just want it to be you and me and..."

"What?"

"Come to bed with me"

Ursa didn't say anything.

"Come on, I'll..."

"Ozai..." she said. She squirmed for him to set her down, which he did.

He took her hands in his. "Please!" he said. "I just want to be alone with you, without all of the nonsense, without all the propriety and ceremony and... I told you this would happen if I met your parents. And I agreed to it and I regret it. I need to know that all of this will be worth my while."

Ursa sighed. She didn't feel like she was ready for it. But the look in his eyes was so sincere, so desperately hungry and amazingly tender at the same time.

"This is an act of rebellion for you," she said. "You're watching the bureaucracy take over what was once a fun fling and now you want to reassert your control over us and prove to yourself you don't need to play by your father's rules."

He didn't say anything.

"And you want to use me for your rebellion, one that doesn't necessarily have anything to do with me."

"It has everything to do with you, Ursa." He huffed. "If all I wanted was sex I could get that anywhere. I don't want sex, I want you specifically! Please!"

"Ozai..." She groaned.

"You came out to meet me for a reason. You didn't think I was going to ask you to play a game of Pai Sho, did you?"

"No," she said. "I knew what you were going to ask."

"And why did you come out?" he said.

"I don't know," she said.

"Well why not see what happens? Why not enjoy a little adventure?"

She looked over at the wall, feeling his firm broad hands around hers. Her body still felt warm from his touch of earlier. Her brain still swarmed with curiosity. And her heart had a very hard time resisting his sincere and handsome face. She had come out to find him, and there was little point in going back.

She kissed him. More realistically, he leaned in to kiss her, and she did not protest. She opened her mouth and let his tongue slide into hers. The world went still and quiet while they were connected like so. She sure did enjoy kissing him.

With her hand in his he led her quickly up a flight of stairs, down another corridor and into a room. Ozai shut the door behind them. She glanced around, noted the smell of sandalwood incense, the golden trim along the ceiling, the plush couches and elaborate woven rugs. There was a maid that cleaned this room, no young man Ozai's age could keep it so pristine on his own.

But there was also a sense that these chambers were lived in, and had been for a long time. Notes tacked onto the wall, papers on a desk, ugly keep-sakes gathering dust on shelves. These had been his chambers since childhood, and it contrasted with Ursa's room in her family's new apartment which was sparklingly clean but still didn't quite feel like her own. But she didn't have time to look around for long.

Ozai took her cheeks in his broad, warm hands and kissed her once again, slowly, thoroughly, and then more forcefully. He pulled the pins from her hair which she felt fall from its bun onto her shoulders. What became of the hair pieces she didn't see. His hands ran over her scalp as he planted wet kisses on her forehead, nose, chin. He pressed his body into hers, overwhelming her with his size. He was in quite a hurry.

"You don't know how good it feels having you to myself," he said.

"Am I going to regret this?" Ursa said to him.

"Why would you regret it?" he said, barely removing his mouth from her cheek enough to enunciate the words.

"Never mind," she said. Images swirled through her head, her family's judgmental stares, her father's fearful anger, her belly swollen with pregnancy. She pushed it from her mind.

lifting her from the ground once again. He carried her into the inner room, where his bed stood, solemn as an alter. She was an offering, being prepared for an ancient rite. He continued to kiss her while he carried her, though she would have preferred to be allowed to walk herself. At least that would have given her a chance to change her mind if she wanted to.

He laid her on the silk covers and untied her sash, like unwrapping a gift. He parted her robes and looked down at her exposed body for the first time. He paused, and leaned back to look at her. She was painfully aware of all the parts of herself she had taken for granted her whole life, the scar on her hip from a childhood accident, the fact her breasts were somewhat small, the light hair on her inner thighs. She tried to read his eyes as he looked at her. His pupils were wide, and his expression sure of what he wanted.

But something else caught his eye. He glanced at the wall, wrinkled his brow in annoyance, as if an intruder had interrupted him, and he got up. He took a portrait that had been hanging there and laid it face down on a table.

"Who's that?" Ursa said to him. "She looks a bit old to be a girlfriend of yours."

"A girlfriend? Did you just..." he sounded almost offended, "It's nothing. Just... I don't necessarily want my mother watching me while we..."

"I see..." Ursa answered.

He pulled off his shirt, and rejoined her on the bed. She took in the sight of his body, sturdy like an oak tree, as he crawled on top of her. He placed his open mouth on the flesh of her bare breast. His body totally encased her. When he laid on top of her she could feel the front of his trousers pressed into her stomach, taught, eager. He kissed her again.

"Relax..." he whispered to her, while wiping the hair out of her face, his voice fading in and out with his heavy breath.

She took a deep breath while he removed his the rest of his clothes and cast them aside in a great hurry. She had never seen a man's genitals before. She only knew the fanciful metaphors in poetry, and the crude drawings in medicinal scrolls. They looked ungainly and cumbersome to carry around, but her eyes were drawn to them, following the trail of hair down his stomach to where they sat.

He laughed. "You like what you see?"

"Not quite what I imagined," she answered.

"Imagine?" he said with his usual smirk, "Imagine on men in general? Or imagine specifically on me?"

"You flatter yourself," she said, returning his smirk.

He took hold of her hand and guided it to his penis. She felt a rush and almost panic when she touched it. That fact he had asked her to made the rush all the more intense, since it went against all of the rules and manners she had learned as a child. And when she did not jerk her hand away, the thrill grew even stronger. She felt blood rushing to her face, and into her hands, and into the flesh between her legs.

She could hardly believe she was actually doing this. She would have laughed a the thought just a day or two ago.

She massaged it with her slender fingers and watched his eyes roll back in his head as the sensation overtook him. His breathing grew stronger and shallower.

"Your mouth!" he breathed. He could barely speak.

She hesitated.

"I'll return the favor," he said, almost begging.

She leaned forward and and took the tip in her mouth. The uncanny, almost bitter taste of human skin covered her tongue. He grabbed her scalp by her hair, and re-positioned himself, and pushed deeper inside, almost into her throat. She coughed, and spat him out.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she said. "And I don't want to continue."

His grip on her scalp tightened. He tilted her head back to look him in the eye. "Oh you were doing fine!" he said. "You'll have to learn eventually."

"Well it's not going to be today," she said, knocking his hands off of her head.

He huffed. He had nothing to say to that. He pushed her backward on the bed, and sunk his face into her neck. His mouth opened on the soft skin of her throat and he sucked hard.

"Please," she said. "Not there, I don't want any marks where anyone can see."

"All fussy today, aren't we?" he said.

"I agreed to come up here with you, rather reluctantly. Don't push your luck."

He snorted. "As you wish, my lady."

He moved his mouth away from her neck, down to her breast, where he worked on creating a new bruise. His hand crept down her abdomen. Ursa's stomach muscles twitched at their light, warm touch, as he walked them through the wool guarding her entrance. His forefinger found exactly what button he needed to push. His broad hands worked her flesh like clay, exploring her folds, his fire-bender's warmth only adding to the affect. Two of his fingers slipped inside of her. The sensation was overwhelming, surprising, but welcome. He massaged the muscles within. Her entire body felt both relaxed and exhilarated. A small noise escaped her lips.

Ozai chuckled, and pressed into her again, harder, eliciting another, louder shriek.

"Sorry," Ursa said.

"What for?" he said.

"I just don't want us to be heard."

"The only people who would hear us up here are the servants," he said. "And they won't care. I want to hear you."

He rubbed and kneaded until she felt her body tremble and pulsate. She didn't hold back, this time, allowing herself to moan in earnest, a desperate, melodic sound like she hadn't thought herself capable of making. She felt like he was satiating a deep hunger within her, or like she was being awoken from a deep sleep. She could let him do this all day. She felt like an idiot for ever doubting. She pressed her hips into his hand, feeling her walls clench around it, wishing his fingers were longer.

His pulled his hand away, and used it to spread her thighs farther apart, spreading her own mucus along her skin. And then he leaned back, took hold of his cock and carefully pushed it inside.

He filled her completely. Her flesh stretched to accommodate him, and it actually stung a bit. He started to move within her, and the pressure and friction became almost unbearable, but also electrifying. She had never imagined pain and pleasure could together like this.

So this was sex. She could understand why people spent so much energy on it, why every poet felt the need to write about it.

His movements grew harder, hungrier, more aggressive, like the beating of a drum. She thought he was going to impale her completely, that he would drill all the way up through the top of her head. She hoped he would. She matched his movements, moving her hips in time with his, rising to meet him.

She closed her eyes and absorbed the sensations. She felt him him move within her, felt her body rocked back and forth in rhythm. She listened to his his heavy breath and hungry grunts above her, to the bed creaking underneath her, to the cries her own throat produced. She felt his lips meet her cheek in a kiss as he worked.

He readjusted his body, grabbed hold of her legs to steady her, and he accelerated. And then pushed himself deeper than had gone even so far, paused, and growled. He throbbed inside of her. A warmth flooded her. He disconnected from her, and collapsed beside her on the bed, sweaty and panting.

She felt her muscles spasming, her heartbeat pounding in her abdominal walls, and liquid dropping onto her thighs. An intense feeling overcame her, the sense of being completely and totally relaxed, yet aching at the same time. The way she felt when she sat down after fire bending practice, or when she came home from a long hike in the mountains. It was nice.

They lay there for a moment, catching their breath, letting the sweat cool their bodies. He put his arms around her and brought her head into his chest. She let him hold her, sweaty skin pressed against sweaty skin, limbs tangled together. Eventually he pulled the blankets over the both of them. The heat of that and their bodies was almost overwhelming, but pleasant.

After a while he didn't say anything, and she realized he had fallen asleep, his chest expanded and contracted, moving her along with it. It must have been late. She could feel herself drifting off as well, She felt her own eyes fluttering, aching to close, her limbs heavy against the mattress and against her lover, warm and unbelievably comfortable. She never wanted to leave.


	14. Bound by Wild Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa and Ozai fall deeper into their relationship, but Ursa's father is deeply concerned and wants to intervene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: {More smut. More Character. More Conflict. Also. Fuck you. I Ain't Proofreading SHIT!}

 

As Ursa lay in Ozai's arms, a panic started to swell in her stomach. Her family was waiting for her. She was supposed to go home with them. She had told them she had gone to use the restroom. How long had she been away? She was so comfortable, and so tempted just to fall asleep while the world searched for her. But she had to get up. She had to make herself look presentable. She squirmed, and tried to pry his arms from around her.

He stirred, and held her tighter. “Oh, no, you're not going anywhere,” he muttered, half asleep.

“Ozai, my family is expecting me to come home with them tonight, I can't stay here.”

“They'll forgive you,” he said. “Stay. We can do it again tomorrow morning.”

She finally managed to wiggle free. But he grabbed her hand and told her once again to stay.

She laughed softly and broke free. “I have to go!” she said.

He sighed, pulled the blankets back over his naked body, and closed his eyes again.

She stood and took a deep breath. There was fluid and slime between her thighs, and to her surprise, a good deal of blood. Her mother had told her that women could expect blood during sex, especially during their first time. She hadn't felt any type of injury initially, although now she did feel somewhat sore. Disgusting. She felt deeply embarrassed all of a sudden. She needed to find water and a clean cloth as quickly as possible.

“Hey!” she said.

He groaned and pulled the blankets up higher.

“I need a wash basin,” she said.

He muttered something about “the other room.” She found a wash room where the carpeted floor transitioned to tile, sitting in front of a mirror with a bar of soap next to it.

“Is there a cloth I can use?” she called back to him.

“Oh come back to bed, worry about it later.”

She huffed, and found a rather expensive looking cotton cloth sitting on a table nearby. She was going to get it dirty, but she didn't care right now. She had to get out of here. She also decided to make use of his comb which was sitting on the same table. Her hair had fallen into her face and she couldn't leave these chambers looking like that.

Her dress was on the floor next to the bed, now wrinkled. She found the first of her hairpins on the floor near the door, but couldn't find the second.

“My hairpiece,” she said. “Do you remember what you did with it?”

“No,” he said. “If you're not going to join me, at least let me sleep in peace.”

“I inherited it from my Aunt, Ozai,” she said. “My mother will be heartbroken if I lose it.”

“I threw it on the floor! I don't know! For the love of...”

Ursa retied the sash on her dress, and smoothed out the wrinkles as best she could. She eventually found the pin after getting down on her hands and knees. It had rolled under the nightstand, the same one where the portrait of Ozai's mother was lying face down.

Ursa paused. Curiosity overwhelmed her. She felt like she was violating some trust by lifting it to look at it, but she had to see.

“Lady Ilah, Queen of the Fire Nation,” was the simple inscription on the side of the portrait. The woman it depicted was perhaps forty years old. Her hair was lifted above her shoulders in elaborate braids, held in place with ruby-studded broaches. Her faint smile seemed to be covering up something darker, sadder. She looked like Ozai, that was for sure, with her intense eyes and squarish jaw. And also like her son, she had a look on her face of profound and undeserved exhaustion.

Ursa wondered how long she had lived after this portrait had been painted. She wasn't young, but she was too young to die. Ursa noted that of all the items in Ozai's chambers, this was the only object depicting a human being, and it was in view of the bed, opposite the fire place where the light could shine upon it. Ursa carefully returned the picture to its nail on the wall. Lady Ilah deserved that amount of respect at least.

She then found her shoes, and headed for the hallway.

She closed the door slowly behind her. She didn't want to bother Ozai who had told her he wanted to sleep, but mostly she didn't want to attract attention to herself.

But it was too late for that.

“Well, I was wondering where you had gone.” It was Iroh, of all people.

Ursa jumped at the sudden sound of his voice. He looked like he was just passing through. He laughed. The blood rushed to her face, and her skin grew hotter than it had at any point during intercourse.

“Stomach ache indeed,” Iroh said. “Not that my brother has ever been that good of a liar.”

“You... you're not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“I won't make any announcements. That wouldn't be my right. But you must know, I am a far worse liar than my brother is, and I usually avoid the practice.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I don't want to cause any type of conflict. We were just...”

Iroh held up his hand to cut her off. “I don't care about what you and my brother do in your free time. And as you may understand, I really do not want to talk about it. I was on my way to look for my son actually. Your parents are still at the dinner table. They were startled when you wondered off, but then your brothers did as well, and they haven't worried since.”

“They're still there?”

“Before I got married my father trapped my wife's parents with him in his office for twelve hours. He spends less time on war negotiations. You should go find them. They'll welcome the interruption.”

She nodded and headed down the hall.

“And Ursa!”

Ursa turned.

Iroh smiled. “Welcome to the family.” He continued on in the direction he was going before she could ask what he meant.

o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o

It was almost midnight when Ursa and her family climbed into the carriage to head home. Her family had assumed she had just gone exploring the way her brothers had. Ursa didn't point out that she worked at the palace, and the urge to explore had worn off a while ago. She was glad her cover story had been provided for her.

Her brothers chatted and laughed on the way home, talking about what they had seen while wandering the halls as well as Azulon's domineering behavior. This did not affect them. But her mother was sullen, and her father was... furious.

Ursa could feel the heat radiate off of him like a cooking stove. “I tell you, Rina,” he said. “I was... I was bribed, I was strong armed, and interrogated, and criticized. And what right does he have to tell you to shut up? You are his guest and...”

“By Azulon?” her mother said.

“Yes! I hope to Heaven I never have to share more than two words of conversation with that man ever again.”

“He's kind to me at least,” Ursa said.

“That may be true but...” Father sighed.

“At least the liquor was good,” Quon said. “You're going to have to find a way to get us a bottle of that stuff, Ursa.”

“It was good,” Bo said. “And necessary to get through that excuse for dinner conversation.”

“The prince seems fairly decent at least,” Quon answered.

“Which one?” Bo said.

“Iroh,” Quon said. “The other one looked like he was struggling to hold in a fart. Like he had been since he was five years old.”

Ursa looked out the window. Heaven! If they only knew how unrestrained he was in bed. She wished she was back there with him, as much as she enjoyed her family's company.

Father sighed. “Filters, Quon...” he said. He shook his head. “After all this, it appears...”

Everyone paused and waited for him to continue. But he didn't.

“Nothing,” he said. “Ursa you and I will talk about it tomorrow. It won't be an easy conversation but...”

Ursa froze. She would not be able to sleep tonight knowing she was going to be confronted.

o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o

Ursa expected her father to come to her in the morning to have the conversation, but he didn't. She dressed herself, applied cosmetics, which she almost never did, and then headed to work.

Her employer was in an unusually chipper mood that morning. Azulon insisted that Ursa join him for tea and lunch. She sat across from him in silence while he recounted tales from his youth, of hunting for dragons, and for the Avatar, and charging outnumbered into battle.

Normally Ursa enjoyed the company of people who told stories, but today, all she could think of was her father's anger and unease. She wished he had spoken to her before she had left, and then the anxiety of the unknown wouldn't be bothering her so much.

Azulon released her early, perhaps he was eager to abandon work himself, or perhaps out of a sense of charity coming from his good mood.

Ozai was already waiting for her. As soon as she saw him in the hallway, his arms were around her, and his hungry lips were exploring the contours of her neck.

She eagerly followed him into a spare room which was used for storing documents. He didn't want to wait till they got upstairs. And as soon as the door locked, he was upon her, like an opium addict on his pipe, or a starving street dog on a scrap of meet.

She spend the next several minutes with her bare back pressed into the cold, dirty floor, and his head pressed between her thighs. He worked her as if playing a musical instrument, and she felt herself moan like one, vibrate like one. Who on earth had taught him how to do that? She didn't think she could ever recover from this. She hoped she never did.

He looked up, and pulled her backwards into his own hips. He kissed her, and she tasted her own mucus on her lips. Everything about this was delightfully disgusting. She yelped when he pushed himself inside her, but he did not hold back or slow down. She begged him not to. Her fingernails dug trenches in his back. He growled, pumping hot milk into her body, and collapsed on top of her.

She flopped backward, her heaving chest pressing up against his weight. “Are you sure it's a good idea to keep doing this?” she panted.

He took a deep breath, turned, and placed his open mouth on her trachea. “You didn't enjoy yourself?” he said.

“I did, it's just...”

She felt his lips crease into a grin as they pressed into her skin. “You're worried,” he said. “I should take you away from this place, is what I should do. I should take you to my family's summer home and stay there with you where you can forget about everything that causes your pretty little head to spin.” He rolled over onto the floor next to her, and stroked her cheek. “No blasted paperwork to keep me up late, none of my brother's condescending tone, or my father's judgment...”

“Those are things that you are worried about, not me.”

“You don't have a father and a brother?” he said.

She smiled. “I do, but I like them. I think they like me too.”

“Do they like me?”

Ursa remembered Quon's comment, how Ozai looked like he had been holding in a fart for more than 15 years. She suppressed a laugh.

He sat up. “Do they?”

“Like it would make any difference to you,” she answered.

“Well?”

“I don't know. My father said he would talk to me about it.”

He sighed. “Maybe we should leave before then. We could be at the beach house by the end of the week, wading in the ocean, getting drunk, fucking each other's brains out on the sand while the sun sets behind us.... You never have to find out what he thinks.”

“I want to know what he thinks,” she said. “You're the one who wants to run.”

“Do you really, though?” he said with a smirk.

“Also I'm not sure about sex on the beach. I don't want to get sand in my hair.”

Ozai sighed. “You have a point there. I hate sand, actually.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Sit up,” he said. When she did, she pulled her robes up over her shoulders, tied her sash, and brushed off the dust, as if dressing a small child. “We can't linger here, someone will want to use this room.”

o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o~~o

When she returned home, her mother called her into the kitchen to help make dinner. The family chattered as they ate. Mother recounted her recent attempts to teach Bo how to play the Erhu, and Father told a boring story about one of his co-workers. But there was an edge to the conversation, another conversation that wasn't being had, angry it had to sit silent and wait.

Father pulled Ursa into her room when they were done, leaving the dishes to her brothers and her mother.

They sat down together on the bed. Ursa waited for him to speak, and waited a little longer.

Finally he sighed and pulled a paper from his pocket and looked at it.

“I'm considering resigning from the Office of Agriculture and Economics. I've written an initial draft of a letter of resignation.”

Ursa paused and leaned back. “Where would you work.”

“I would go back to Hira'a,” he said. “I wouldn't be able to govern. Someone else has taken that office. But I could find some position in the state council perhaps.”

“Why?” Ursa said. “I thought you liked your work here?”

“Well...” Father said. “I... I suppose it's alright. Work is work to me. Mostly I would want to go... Mostly I would want to go so I could take you with me.”

She fidgeted her hands in front of her. “You're trying to protect me.”

He sighed. “I don't think you should continue working for the Fire Lord, or continuing to court his son. It's not a family you need to be a part of.”

“I thought you wanted me to make my own decisions?” Ursa said. She felt shock and anger foaming up in her stomach.

“I do... Ursa. I... But I also have to protect you.”

“Just because you don't think I should marry him, why does that mean I can't see him?” she noticed her voice developing an edge. “I finally find myself building a life here. Not just that, but I'm actually falling in love! And now you want to pull me away from it! Because you think I don't realize what I'm getting into? I know it wouldn't be easy if I were to stay with him. I know it wouldn't be easy being part of the royal family. I know that! I would have stopped seeing him a while ago if I didn't think it was worth it.”

Her father remained calm. He put his hand on her shoulder. She wanted to shrug it away, she felt so angry, but she didn't. “It wouldn't be that easy. If you wanted to end the relationship, You would have to tell the Fire Lord you no longer wished to work for him, which would be an insult. You would have to stop going to the Fire Bending club. You would have to risk angering one of the most powerful men in the world. The only way you could ever get out is for someone else to pull you out of it. If you cut him off yourself, that's an insult, but... if you have move out of the city due the ebs and flows of your father's career, that's something the royals could accept. You would be protected.”

“I don't want to end it!” Ursa said.

“But I think you should. The family is...”

“I'm not dating the family. I'm dating Ozai.”

“You're courting the family. That's how courtship works. When I married your mother, she KNEW that it wouldn't just be her and me. She knew it was going to be all of the stigma that came along with my father's legacy, and that her children would have to carry it as well. She made a choice in that. And it wasn't easy for her to do.”

“And I'm making my choice!” Ursa said.

“It isn't much of a choice, that's the problem.” Her father's eyes were pleading, gentle, but also insufferably patronizing. “You do realize...”

“It's my choice!” Ursa said.

He huffed. “You do realize if the prince ever were to propose marriage to you, you would not be able to refuse him?”

“Why would I want to say no anyway?”

Father finally started to sound a bit angry. “Because you are seventeen and you have things you need to do, a life you need to live, mistakes you need to make. You're not ready for this. I don't want to see you locked behind those walls, squirreled up in some royal apartment, bearing children who will grow up in a world that treats them poorly, for a man who isn't even kind to you. I... I have to stop that from happening.” Father stood up. “Ursa. If he proposes, and you decline, I lose my job, which means your brothers also lose any chance of ever finding work as civil servants in this city. It would mean you would be blocked from ever marrying any other man in this city who isn't a street cleaner or a day laborer. It would be an insult the Royal family would not tolerate. If they even allowed you to stick by that decision.”

She put her hands on her face. He had a point. But the idea of leaving, after all the time she had spent with Ozai, after allowing him to get close to her, to get to know her, to be INSIDE of her.... She would go back to Hira'a. She would spend time with her friends from the theater troop, and Mrs. Tao, and hike in the mountains, and it would be nice. But she would be alone.

Suddenly the idea of running with Ozai to the beach house seemed a lot more appealing. She had judged him for wanting to shirk his responsibilities. Now her father wanted to do what felt to her like the same thing. But it made sense now. But she didn't believe in running.

“Well,” she said solemnly, “You can go if you want. You can throw your career away. But I won't leave.”

Father looked down at the draft of his letter. He folded it up. “Think about it at least. For a few days.”

She crossed her arms. “Can I please have my room to myself?” she said.

He sighed, and stood and left. Ursa got up and closed the door behind him.

 


	15. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa's commitment to Ozai is tested through her family's discouragement and her own feelings of indecision.

During breakfast the next morning, Ursa and her father did not speak. There was a brief moment of eye contact but not much more. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say to him. She was angry and hurt by his proposal to leave the Capitol. When Father had taken Ursa away from her home town, it had made her anger. Now he wished to once again uproot her and move her, just as she was getting comfortable. Because she was getting comfortable.

During breakfast, Father and Mother whispered to each other while they stared at Ursa, low enough that she couldn't hear, deciding her fate while she sat by silently. Ursa tried not to show them how much that enraged her, that feeling like she didn’t have any control over her own life. She thought about the bags under Ozai’s eyes, and wondered if she was likely to develop bags of her own.

During her secretary work, Azulon prattled on and on about the day of his own wedding years ago, and it was becoming obvious why he had been so chipper since the dinner party. He was making plans for her. Everyone was making plans for her.

Except for Ozai, who was completely open to her suggestions. She suggested they share a little rice liquor under the gazebo in the eastern garden, and then share their bodies in a locked spare room for an hour or two. One hour did become two, which became three and then four. They fell asleep together on a couch, sweaty, naked, drunk and completely uncaring about the world around them or the consequences of their behavior.

Ursa arrived home long past sunset, feeling not the slightest bit guilty for her tardiness. Her father didn't stay up to wait for her. He knew where she had been. What possibly would he need to say to her?

The evening nap made it harder to fall asleep that night. Her brain was also spinning in anxiety. What if she did stay in the Capitol? What if she did get married? What if she did commit to a life in the palace, with all the privileges and restrictions that came with it? And what if she did go back to Hira'a with her family? Could she watch her father throw his career away to provide his daughter a life of boring, middle-class, safety and loneliness? Was that really what was right for her?

“I don't know what to think, Bo,” she said to her brother the next day.

“Well, you know what I think,” Bo told her, plucking disinterestedly at the strings of the Erhu sitting on his lap.

“You don't like him, you told me,” Ursa said.

“Nope,” he said.

“I don't hear any practicing!” Mother called from the other room.

“I swear to Heaven and all the stars within it, I'm going to smash this noise-box into a million pieces,” Bo whispered. “You want to hear music? A bang and a crack and smash. There's some music. Stupid music lessons. Just...” He sighed. “But what does it matter what I think. I can't tell you what to do.”

“I wish you would,” Ursa said. “Then I wouldn't feel as confused.”

“I've tried. We've all tried telling you what to do,” Bo said. “You're not confused about what to do. You've already made up your mind. You just feel guilty that everyone else doesn't agree with it.”

“Or if I'm making a terrible mistake,” Ursa said.

“We've all told you that you were.”

“Would you be angry at me if...” Ursa sighed.

“If you got married to the prince?” he said.

She shrugged.

“Nah,” he said. “I mean… I can't speak for the rest of the family. But I wouldn't be angry at you. What would I even be angry about? That you value your own idea of happiness over other people's opinions? That you were now filthy rich and enormously powerful and I wasn't? That you disagreed with our judgment? That would be a dumb thing to be angry about.” He didn't look at her as he spoke.

She could spot a lie. A small tint of sadness crossed over his face, but Bo was never the type to let others see his emotions. His cheery facade made sure of that. Bo picked up the bow and tried again to scratch out the folk tune Mother had asked him to learn. He didn't say anything else to her. She left the conversation feeling more conflicted and unhappy than she had before.

Again, Iroh had her cleaning out his desk the next morning. In just six weeks, it had gotten messier than it had even been before. But he was ever appreciative of her help. He made her tea once again, and talked at length about topic after topic.

“They also told me in the water-tribe women tend to get married rather young. Sometimes by the time they're fifteen. It's a hard life at the poles, which makes it a necessity. I don't know if it’s true or not but can you imagine that? A wife and mother at fifteen? Of course my mother wasn't much older when I was born. I never asked her for the details about how her marriage was arranged and-”

Ursa found herself growing frustrated with the chatter. Especially when there was so much chatter going on in her own mind. “Can I ask you something?” she said, interrupting him.

He stopped mid-sentence and looked up from the stacks of papers he was sorting. “About the water-tribe?”

“No,” she said. “About... I don't know. General things. Everyday things.”

He grinned. “You're coming to me for advice!”

“I... I guess,” she said.

“I've been trying for years to get my little brother to listen to my advice. Of course he doesn't listen. My son doesn't listen much either. Maybe you will. I suppose I have to give it to someone.”

“Wait. What did you advise him about me?” she said.

He raised his eyebrow. “to my little brother?”

“Yes,” she said, leaning forward.

“Oh, nothing I haven't said to him about him about his previously lady friends...”

Ursa exhaled, and realized that she probably would not get any answer more detailed than that. “What I was going to ask... what do you do when you can't make a decision?”

“Usually the pain of indecision goes away once the decision is made,” he told her. “Regret most usually comes from decisions made rashly, decisions that chose instant pleasures over long term prosperity, not from decisions that weigh heavy on your mind for a long time.” He gave her a kind, but insufferably patronizing smile. “Of course, you may feel regret anyway, but that's just a part of moving forward in your life. You will simply have to forgive yourself and move on.”

“That's not much of a help,” she said.

He laughed. “I don't know what you are torturing yourself over. So I don't think I can help you any more than that.”

She sighed. “I talked to my brother. He thinks I've already made up my mind.”

“Well then maybe you have.”

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o

Ursa sat with her parents on a day when her brothers had gone out. She looked her father in the eye, sat up straight and took a deep breath.

“I know you disagree with this,” she said. “I know you may not accept my decision. But I will not return with you to Hira'a if you go. My place is here.”

“I think that might be a mistake,” her father said to her.

“But it's my mistake to make,” she said. “And you have told me before you want me to be free to make my own decisions. This is my decision. I don't want you to agree with it. But I do ask that you respect it.” She pulled back her shoulders. She did not break eye contact with her father.

Her mother looked uneasy. “At least tell me love you have given this thought.”

“I have.”

She thought her Father would be angry. And perhaps he was. But he simply took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said quietly.

“I don't need to explain myself, but I can if you want,” Ursa said. “I'm in love. I found my place here. I don't want to leave, and you can't convince me-”

“Okay,” her Father repeated. Ursa had not believed it the first time she heard it. “It's settled.”

Ursa leaned back in her chair surprised. She had prepared herself for a bigger fight.

Her mother reached out and took her hand. But her Father had more emotions that he needed to deal with. He had surrendered, and he was immediately regretting it. He took a deep breath, then got up from the table and returned to his room.

Ursa could hear her parents through her bedroom wall that night. Mother tried talking to him about it, but he would not discuss it. “What do you want me to do, Rina?” he said. “I told her it was settled, and so it is.” He was quiet for the rest of the night.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o

The feeling in the air changed after that. It was like one weight had been taken off of Ursa's shoulders and another had been added. She was free to do as she pleased. But she had to live with the fact that her family did not agree. When she met Ozai in the evenings she was even less eager to get home before dark. Her father became quiet around her, her mother pretended as if nothing had changed, and her brothers teased her about it openly. Already Quon started calling her “princess.” She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but she didn't openly object.

She didn't tell Ozai about the conversation she'd had with her parents. It wouldn't make any difference to him what they thought, and when she was with him she wanted to forget her anxieties, not add to them. But he did notice she was more comfortable than before spending time with him, not as much in a hurry to head home.

He took her up to his chambers after she finished her work one afternoon, he undressed her and made love to her and clutched her close to his body when he was done. She no longer cared if he left marks on her neck. She didn't resist falling asleep beside him.

She watched the sun go down through the window beside the bed, and woke to it rising again the next morning. He woke with her. His hand working the flesh between her legs was the first sensation she noticed as the day broke, and it drew her attention out of the hazy land of dreams. She wanted to wake to that every morning for the rest of her life. They made love again, not even having cleaned up the mess from their last session. Ozai kissed her and stroked the hair from her face, before he got up, dressed, and went outside to begin his morning fire-bending practice.

She was barely awake when she noticed she had been left alone, but was awoken fully when a maidservant knocked on the door. The servant had brought Ursa a change of clothes, a hardy breakfast, and supplies to draw a bath.

When she was clean and fed, she collected her bag from beside the door, and headed into the hallway, downstairs to begin her day’s work as a scribe.

The Fire Lord's office was closed however. Whatever alternative duties Azulon had prepared for her, he had not explained them to her. She knocked, but received no reply. She could hear the old man inside talking at length about something he felt was of great importance.

Ursa sighed and then sat down on a bench across the hall, occupying herself with a history book she had borrowed from Ozai's shelf. She was half way through an account of the Battle of Six Stones when the door opened.

Her father stepped out. He looked over at her, his face full of mixed emotions he struggled not to show. He walked toward her, leaned down, and kissed her cheek, before heading down the hall. No words had come to him, but he had managed to communicate anyway.

When she came in she saw her father's handwriting on a paper on Azulon's desk, listing figures and numbers, along with her own name. Azulon covered in unceremoniously with another paper. A dowry would most certainly need to be paid, whether her father approved of the marriage or not. Ursa had the all-too-familiar feeling that others were discussing her fate without her input.

But her Father had respected her choice, and not passively either. She wasn't sure what she should say to him when she got home. She kept the feeling of his kiss on her cheek throughout the day as she worked.

 

 


	16. Spring Equinox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An engagement is announced. And Ozai gets some bad news.

The engagement was announced during the Spring Equinox festival before a crowd of nobles, officers, and dignitaries. Ursa had been draped in heavy silk and jewels, in order to be paraded before the Royal court and distant branches of the royal family. Ozai ordered the orchestra to stop playing, and shouted for the crowd to quiet down. He raised his glass with one hand and wrapped the other around Ursa's waist. He dropped the news. They were to be married before the beginning of summer.

The gathered nobility reacted in diverse ways. Most clapped. Some of the older dignitaries shook their heads at Ozai's choice of bride. One of the more intoxicated guests, a cousin from Ozai's mother's side, whooped at the top of his lungs.

“Well, we now know now he isn't gay!”

No one laughed. Except for Iroh, who pretended not to. Ozai huffed and tightened his grip around Ursa, deciding to let his cousin's teasing slide.

But Ursa's attention was drawn to the back of the room. She saw her father standing with his drink in his hand, watching her. He had clapped slowly. His face was anxious.

Ursa and Ozai made their way around the ballroom, greeting the guests. They sniffed at her like dogs investigating a bitch in heat.

“Ozai, you can pull a country bumpkin off her farm and wrap her up in silk but that will not make her an adequate breeding stock for princes,” said a gaudily dressed elderly woman who seemed to intimidate even Ozai. She did not seem to mind that Ursa was standing right there.

“My father would disagree,” Ozai said.

“My brother also believes we can conquer the Earth Kingdom without recruiting Earth Benders into the army, but that is neither here nor there.” The woman said. “Not that you've ever proven to be much brighter...” She then yelled for a servant girl to bring her more rice wine.

“How many aunties do you have?” Ursa whispered as they walked away.

“Too many,” Ozai answered.

“Am I going to have to remember ALL of their names?” Ursa said.

He shrugged. “Why bother? I don't.”

“And that of course is why you find it so frustrating dealing with the workings of the court.” It was Iroh. He came up behind them, and landed a gentle fist into Ozai's shoulder. “You think that because you are a prince, you don't actually have to put work into your duties, and that those underneath you will do the work for you.”

“Iroh this is my engagement party, not boot-camp.”

“Everything is boot camp,” Iroh said. “Men of our station are not awarded the luxury of complacency.”

“Iroh...” Ozai was getting annoyed.

“And here you are planning to marry and start a family. How are you supposed to chase after children if you can't even handle your drunken aunts? Learning names is the first step I would think,” Iroh said. “Ursa who was it you were just talking to?”

“The Fire Lord's youngest sister, Keiko,” Ursa said.

“She's better at this than you are,” Iroh said with a grin.

“I swear by every spirit walking this earth, Iroh. I already have one nagging father besieging me with his lectures, I don’t need another one. Did you come over here just to chastise me?”

“No,” Iroh said, maintaining his composure despite Ozai's temper tantrum. “The other nagging father wishes to speak to you.”

“About what?” Ozai said.

Iroh looked over his shoulder toward the Fire Lord who was waiting impatiently in a corner. “Not something that is best discussed in the open.”

Ozai paused. A strong mixture of anger and utter terror came over his face. He put his hand on Ursa's arm, then obeyed his summons.

“There's still many more people you should probably meet,” Iroh said. “If you would like me to accompany you...”

“That would be lovely,” she said.

When the rounds of introduction were finished, the orchestra had played through four different ballads, the servants had nearly run out of liquor, and Ozai had still not returned from speaking with his father. In fact, Ursa couldn’t find him anywhere in the ballroom.

Iroh had since left her alone. Ursa was thinking about visiting the buffet table, when there was another tap on her shoulder. Her father was behind her. He tried his best to smile for her, but she could tell he did not share her joy.

Her family had arrived to the party separately. She had not had a chance to speak to them yet. Father opened his arms. She fell into them.

They took a seat at a bench against the wall.

“You didn't tell us he had proposed,” Father said.

“You and the Fire Lord have spent weeks negotiating the details, I thought you would have expected it.”

“It would have been nice to know when it became official at least,” Father said. He looked down at his hands, and fiddled with a ring he had on his finger.

Ursa sighed. “I know this isn't easy for you,” she said. “I know how you feel about all this. I know you think it’s a bad idea. But...”

“Stop,” Father said. “You've made your case to me. And...”

“You've gotten over your reservations?”

“Of course I haven't gotten over my reservations, but... I saw you up there. With his arm around you. You looked happy. You looked comfortable. And how can I possibly object to that.”

“Thank you,” Ursa said. “For your support.”

He put her hand on his shoulder. “Come have a drink with your mom and your brothers. When you're a married woman we won't see that much of you anymore.”

“Okay,” she said.

And that was when Ozai made his appearance. He spotted Ursa over the crowd and shoved his way past the fancy guests to get to her.

“Ursa!” he called. He arrived at her side, and took hold of her arm, a sense of urgency in his perpetually tired eyes.

Ursa's father rubbed the back of his neck, and then offered Ozai a bow. “Your Highness...”

Ozai was a bit startled to see Ursa’s father.  It took him a moment to recognize him. “Sir...”

“I don't think that you and I have ever had a proper conversation,” Father said. “Considering you and I will soon be family, I think perhaps we should.”

Ozai looked at Ursa. He nodded toward the door of the ballroom subtly. He wanted to talk to her alone.

Ursa glared at him and stayed put. “That would be nice, I think,” Ursa said to her father.

A sense of anger and betrayal fell of Ozai's face.

Ursa raised her eyebrow at him. “Your brother did indicate he wanted to practice your diplomatic skills,” she whispered to him.

“This is important!” he whispered back.

“An emergency? Or can it wait?”

He hissed.

“This is my father!” she said. “Just give him half an hour. We can talk afterword.”

Ozai cleared his throat. His voice dropped to the princely, official caliber he used when talking to court officials and officers. “That would be splendid. I could join you at your table for a drink perhaps.”

Mother was absolutely delighted that the couple decided to join the family at the table. She scooted over to make room for the two of them, then called over to a manservant to refill their glasses. Ursa's brothers were already somewhat intoxicated, which made them even more rowdy than usual. They tried to engage Ozai in conversation, expecting him to act like any other young man their age. But he did not bite when they offered him their jokes and anecdotes. Ozai just sat with his knee bouncing erratically under the table.

“So do you guys have fancy parties like this all the time?” Bo said to Ozai.

“No,” Ozai said, not offering elaboration.

“Oh no, Bo,” Quon, said, “not fancy parties like this. Fancier I imagine.”

“I don't imagine it getting fancier than this.”

“It does,” Ozai said.

“And Ozai,” her mother said. “Ursa tells me you are a talented fire bender. Do you two practice together.”

“Sometimes...” he said, his knee continuing to bounce.

“And do you have any other hobbies?” Mother said.

The question annoyed Ozai. “Fire bending is far from a hobby.”

“Ah,” Mother said, looking down.

“And Ursa tells me also you have ambitions to clear corruption from the Capital City. How is that project going?” Father said.

Ursa intervened. “When he isn't burdened beyond belief with paperwork, he manages to do get a little investigating done.” She smiled. “The poor man.”

“I knew it!” Quon said, “even up on the very tipity top of the totem pole, The Fire Lord and his family are still paper-pushing government bureaucrats.”

“Quon!” Father hissed, turning beat red with embarrassment.

Bo slapped the table, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Ozai didn't react. Ursa noticed sweat building behind between his neck and the collar of his robes. When he said he needed to get out of here, he was serious. Ursa waited for him to make an excuse, to try and pull her away. But his face was growing pale and his eyes distant. Something absolutely terrible was on his mind.

Ursa coughed. Over the months she had been learning how to play politics. “Ozai, why don't you and I find the housekeeper and ask her why dinner hasn't been served yet.” She put his hand on his arm.

Ursa's parents spotted the lie immediately, and their brows knitted in concern. She shot them an apologetic glance and led Ozai away from the table.

He led her by the hand out into the garden.

“Ozai!” she said. “What's going on! You could have at least tried to impress my parents. My father has been dying to speak to you without your father hanging over you.”

He didn't answer. He found a bench underneath a lantern and sat down, taking a deep breath. She sat down next to him. With the lantern light and the moon and the flowers around that were beginning to bloom, the setting could have been romantic. But the tension in the air prevented romance.

Ursa put her hand on Ozai's back and stroked him. “What is going on.”

He caught his breath. “We have one month.”

“What? One month for what.”

“After the wedding. One month. After the wedding we have one month. My father believes that I've been slacking on my duties. He says this isn't where I need to be. He says I'm not useful here. He says that to have me around is...” he stopped. He turned and looked her in the eye. “I'm going to war.”

 

 


	17. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa prepares for marriage. Ozai prepares for war.

Ursa sat cross legged on the grass and watched Ozai practicing in front of her. He had been practicing since dawn. It was almost noon now. His clothes were dripping with sweat and his face was dripping with anger and frustration. And Iroh would not let him quit.

“Let’s see it again!” Iroh said.

“What by Heaven and Earth for!” Ozai said. “I did it perfectly!”

“You did it perfectly once. You need to do it perfectly a hundred times before you know it.” Iroh's attention was turned to a small stone sticking out of the soil next to his

 chair. He absentmindedly kicked it loose, and picked it up to look at it.

Ozai growled. “I'm done for the day. I've endured enough of your humiliation I think. I think my fire bending is strong enough to handle the worst the Earth Kingdom has to throw at me. Fire is after all the strongest of the elements.”

The rock flew from Iroh's hand. Ozai saw it just in time. He shot forth a wall of flame in front of the stone to block it. But the stone cut through the fire like a knife through soft butter. The rock, now sizzling hot, nailed Ozai in the shoulder.

Ozai swore clutched at the bruise. All of his frustration from the morning training was now surfacing. “I'm going to kill you, one day, Iroh!”

Iroh laughed. “Let's hope an earth bender doesn't get you first.” He took another stone and threw that one as well.

Ozai knew this time to duck. But his anger only worsened.

“Now imagine that rock, ten times as heavy, traveling ten times as fast. The Earth Kingdom may not have our wealth, or our discipline, or our technology, but they are not weak or defenseless. If you want to go there to wage war, you will need every tool available to you to make it home in one piece. So let's try it again shall we. The form. From the top.”

“I told you, I am done with this!”

Iroh took Ozai by the shoulders. His younger brother was an entire head taller than he was, but Iroh still manage to command a paternal authority over the younger man. Ozai glared down at him. Iroh took hold of Ozai's chin and turned it in Ursa's direction. Ursa and Ozai made eye contact. Unsure what to do, she gave him a little wave.

Iroh grinned. “You will need every tool in your belt if you want to come home to HER in one piece. Don't do it for me. Do it for her.”

Ozai, still annoyed, huffed, then shrugged his brother's hand away. He shook out his hands, getting his muscles ready to work. He closed his eyed. Iroh took a step back, shouting instructions all the way. “Concentrate! Stay focused! Stay cool!”

Ozai's fingers swept through the air. Sparks began to gather around him. He held the energy within him for a moment and released it.

The noise was deafening. The world around them became overwhelmed with the purest white light, but it was over in an instant. Ozai was left standing in place, panting from the exertion and excitement, stray hairs on his head rising with the static. He sighed and sat back down, more relieved it was over than impressed with what he had just done.

“Yes! Excellent! Excellent work!” Iroh clapped. “Alright, Ozai, your period of indenture has ended. I release you from my vile clutches.”

“Until tomorrow...” Ozai muttered.

“Until tomorrow,” Iroh said. “We'll practice the lightning some more and then perhaps do a little good-old-fashioned strength training. You cannot slack on the basics.”

“I'm trembling with excitement,” Ozai said with a sigh.

Iroh disappeared, to return to his regular duties. A manservant offered Ozai a glass of water. He instead took the entire pitcher, took a few hardy gulps, and then poured the rest over his shirtless back. The servant rolled his eyes and took the empty pitcher back inside.

“Well,” Ozai said to Ursa, a smirk plastering his dripping face, “what did you think.”

“When you asked me to come watch you train, you didn't tell me I would have to bring ear plugs.”

“Were you impressed?” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest.

“Yes, Ozai,” she answered with an exasperated laugh. “I was thoroughly impressed.”

He grinned, and pressed his nose into her temple. “I'm not quite out of energy yet, and I have a little time to perhaps impress you some more.”

She laughed and pushed him away. “Maybe after you have a bath, you sweaty bastard!”

 

Up in Ozai's quarters, the servants had already filled an enormous wash basin with perfumed water. The temperature was lukewarm, to cool an athlete's aching muscles, so Ursa declined Ozai's offer for her to join him in the bath.

“Oh, just for a little bit...”

“I don't care to get all wet.”

“As if the mere sight of me doesn't do that already,” he said.

She snorted. “you think you're funny, don't you.” But he was right. She had watched him undress dozens of times before. But she still felt a tingle in her stomach as she watched him strip and slip into the water, his strong arms resting along the side of the wash basin. It felt someone had poured warm oil into the her abdomen. It was pleasant. She could watch him all day. She regretted her decision not to join him.

Ozai closed his eyes and sunk into the water. Iroh had not been gentle on him in the slightest this morning, nor the morning before. Tomorrow's training session would be no easier. And the weight of what was coming suddenly hung over the young couple.

“Why now?” Ursa said after a moment of quiet.

“Now what?”

“Why is he sending you to war now?”

“Because he should have sent me to war a long time ago, and he wants me to go before I have children.”

“He doesn't mind sending Iroh, even though he has a son.”

“Look, that's not what he said. That's just the best explanation I can think of. And Iroh did not go to war when Lu Ten was small. And father doesn't send him. He goes of his own free will.”

“Well, you're lucky, I suppose,” Ursa said.

Ozai looked up at her.

“Well, think about how people who are... not princes. Think about how many young men, younger than you, are drafted into the army, regardless of whether they children or not.”

“I don't see how this is much better,” Ozai said.

“You will not be put on the front lines, most likely,” Ursa said. “And it could even be worse than that. You could be living in the Earth Kingdom where everyone is forced to endure war.”

“You're not helping, Ursa,” he said.

She took a deep breath. “So what DID your father say. What reasoning did he give you.”

Ozai paused and answered slowly. “He said I am not a man.”

“And... going to war will make you a man...”

“My father saw his first bloodshed when he was seventeen, and he took up the throne when he was nineteen. He fears he's raised me to be soft, and gentle. Although you and I both know I am neither of those things.”

Ursa grinned. “You're gentle with me.”

Ozai raised his eyebrow

“I like gentle,” she said.

“Watch how far that gentleness will get me,” Ozai grumbled.

“You think you're father is right,” Ursa said. “You think you are not a man?”

“Not man enough for the Fire Nation. We have wars to fight and win. We have order to maintain. We have... forwardness to march. The Fire Nation has no place for gentleness.”

“Who told you that?” she said.

“Experience.”

She leaned over the side of the wash basin, and took his face in her hand. “Not even my gentleness?” she said. She lowered her eyelids and leaned her face close to his. The warmth in her stomach compelled her to reach for him, to join with him.

“Hmm... That I do like.” He grabbed her hand softly in his own, dripping sweet-smelling water onto her sleeves. He sat up and kissed her. “And I will miss it.”

0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0

The day before the wedding Ursa's mother spent the entire day cooking the most elaborate meal she knew how to make. At dinner she loaded Ursa's plate with about five pounds of rice and more meat than Ursa could ever fit into her stomach.

“Oh, mom, I need to fit into my dress,” Ursa said.

“I will alter the seam!” Mother said.

“There's going to be a huge feast tomorrow.”

“Prepared by strangers,” Mother said. “This is the last time you will ever eat my cooking. And nothing will ever taste as good as my cooking, I promise you. And when you have been away from me for a month or two, you will begin to miss it. And I want to you to remember this taste.” She leaned down and kissed Ursa on the forehead.

Ursa smiled, and bit into the pile that had been served to her. It was greasy, spicy, but not overwhelming. The rice was sticky, but not overcooked. The meat was tender. Mother had put her time into this. A twinge of sadness came over Ursa when she realized her children would probably never taste her own cooking. It would always be strangers who cooked for them.

“It's delicious,” she said.

Mother leaned down and embraced her. And she did not let go, not until Quon snickered at Mother's display of emotion.

“She's just getting married, not getting sacrificed to the Sun God,” Quon said.

“Oh give her a moment!” Bo said, slapping Quon in the arm. “We're all going to miss her and you know it.”

0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0

After dinner Mother and Ursa went into her room to begin the exciting, yet melancholy work of packing. All of the trinkets had already been carefully wrapped and placed into crates. And all that was left were Ursa's clothes. Most of which were far too plain to wear in the royal palace. Mother was helping her sort what she would keep and what she would leave behind.

“And this one?” Mother said, holding up a shawl Ursa hadn't worn in years.

“Those fell out of fashion ages ago, Mom,” Ursa said.

“Oh, but I don't think so. It's made of fine satin; you could wear it somewhere nice.”

“I don't think so. Give away.”

Mother sighed, folded up the shawl, and put in a pile of things she would keep for herself. “I suppose you've grown into a city woman, a courtier, and I'm still an old country wife who doesn't know things like that.”

“Oh, mother...” Ursa wasn't sure how to react. “There's nothing wrong with that...”

Mother's face was contorting, as she struggled to stop the emotions bursting out from within her. “Your life is going to be so different than mine. And I wouldn't trade the life I've led for anything, but... I'm scared Ursa. I'm scared that you will soon be a foreigner to me. A princess. Sequestered away, with norms and customs I will never know, and I will perhaps only see you a few times a year. And...”

Ursa put her arm around her mother's shoulder. “I will move forward with the things you have taught me,” she said.

“A lot of things I have to teach you still,” Mother said.

“I'll figure it out, I think,” Ursa said.

“You can expect blood on your wedding night,” Mother said, wiping away her tears. “And pain. But that will lessen with time, especially if you demand your husband treat you with sensitivity. That's one thing I've been meaning to speak to you about, and I've been putting it off, because I was so embarrassed. With your father, he and I-”

“Okay, mom,” Ursa said, putting up her hands before mother could go into more details.

“Ursa, I am just trying to prepare you in a way no one bothered to prepare me. I just want you not to have to suffer my same trials and... of course, I wouldn't trade a single moment I had with your father, but it wasn't always easy and...”

“I know, mom. I know how sex works. I'm young but I'm not innocent.”

“Oh...” Mother paused. “You and he...”

Ursa felt blood rushing into her cheeks. “Yes, I thought you would have guessed already.”

“No...” Mother looked down. “You and I are living in different worlds indeed.”

“Isn't that why your brought your children to the Capitol, so we could grow up in a different world than the one you came from?” Ursa said. “You succeeded. And I can only hope my own children will come of age in a world very different from mine.”

“Different doesn't always mean better,” Mother said. “I'm... I'm anxious that's all. I hope you aren't walking into a world that is so different it will destroy you.”

“I'm going to be fine.”

They embraced once again. Ursa gave her mother a moment to catch her breath and dry her crying eyes before they finished the packing.

0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0

When the packing was over Father invited Ursa out onto the balcony of the flat where the family lived. The view was not spectacular. The busy and dirty city streets would never compare with great verdant beauty of Hira'a. They sat together on the bench and watched the street vendors close up their shops for the evening.

Father pulled something from his pocket. A red ribbon. He put it in Ursa's hand.

“An early wedding present?” Ursa said.

“No, not exactly. It's not a happy gift.”

Ursa rolled the ribbon around her finger, noting the fine silk texture and the gold thread that coursed down its middle. “What kind of gift is it.”

“A gift of an extremely anxious father wanting to protect his child. Ursa, marrying into the royal family is not just legally binding yourself to another person. It's enmeshing yourself in a dangerous and unforgiving world with rules and high stakes. And if... if things get bad. If things go wrong...”

“Like what?”

“You know, exactly, Ursa. If you are ever hit, or bullied, or... if he ever....” Father stopped himself he didn't want to finish the sentence. Ursa wasn't sure she completely understood what he was trying to say, but she had an idea, and that idea sent a chill down her back.

“Ozai isn't that kind of person,” she said.

“They never are until after the honey moon.”

“Father...” Ursa wasn't sure she wanted this conversation, any more than she wanted her mother talking to her about sex.

“Look,” Father said. “I don't know if he is that type of person or not. But the world is filled with... that type of people. And when that type of person is a prince in the royal family. It will be a lot harder for you to get away if you have to. And if that happens. If... If you ever need to get away. Just put the ribbon in a letter addressed to me. And I will get you out.”

“Do you think you could get me out?”

“I don't know, but I would try.”

Ursa paused. “I'm not sure I want this gift. It sounds like bad luck.”

“The gift is not optional. Please keep it safe. Please promise me you will not let them lock you in some little posh apartment where your life is drained from you day by day. Please promise me you will reach out to me if you need to.”

Ursa put the ribbon in her own pocket. She leaned forward and put her arms around her father's chest. “I will.”

He leaned down and kissed her head. “Go get some sleep. You've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

 


	18. The Princess of the Fire Nation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a wedding and a wedding night (*wink wink*)

Weddings in the Fire Nation were unique, though Ursa had never been to a wedding which was any different. She was wrapped in finery and jewelry that overwhelmed her with its size and weight, layers of the finest silk and cotton, her head and body laden with gold and jewels. She was carried in a palanquin, up a hill to a shrine outside of the palace grounds. A band of musicians walked behind her. Her parents and her brothers walked in front.

People gathered in the streets to watch her pass. They cheered at her. Ursa wasn't used to that kind of attention. And it was then it really did sink in, she would soon be royalty. She was a public figure now. Young girls of the peasantry would look up to her as an example. Her opinion would carry weight. Her heart pounded and she could feel herself sweating under the blankets of silk.

The music continued as they reached the shrine. Distinguished guests, as well as members of Ursa's extended family who were brought from Hira'a, were gathered. They clapped at her arrival. The Palanquin was lowered. She stepped off and took her father's hand, as he led her to the center of the shrine.

Ozai was waiting at the front. His face was not joyous. He kept it hard and stiff, in order to hide his intense nerves, ever aware of the eyes upon him, judging his decision, judging his appearance and compliance with the sacred rite. But he relaxed a bit when he saw her. When he made eye contact with Ursa, his eyebrows un-knitted slightly and the ends of his mouth curled up. Her father placed her hand into Ozai's, and then stood off to the side.

She could hear her mother sniff and sob as the Fire Sage ordered the couple to bow prostrate before the alter. Ash from the sacred fire that burned continuously in the temple's center was sprinkled over their heads. The sage recited the names of their ancestors. Ozai's he knew by memory, having performed weddings for the royal family for generations. Ursa's he had to read. He hesitated when Avatar Roku was listed, the name like poison on his tongue, like a metallic shriek on the ears of the guests. The spirits were invoked, to bless the couple with good fortune, happiness, and-most importantly- fertility.

The sage ordered them to rise. He handed each of them a bamboo stick, and ordered them to light the end. Both of them were fire benders, so there was no need to use the ceremonial flints that were provided. Together they lowered the flames into a bowl of kindling and incense that had been placed on the alter. The bowl lit up and when the flames were tall enough to rise above the edges of the bowl, the bond was permanent, legal, and binding.

The sage gave them permission to kiss. Which they did. The gathered crowed cheered. Ursa's head received a crown. Princess of the Fire Nation.

They were carried together to the palace, through the streets, greeted by ecstatic crowds who placed flowers on the path before them. The musicians continued to play all the way up until they reached the gate.

When they reached the palace, the ceremony was over. The two of them could finally breathe. They retreated for a moment in a spare room. Ursa was allowed to remove a few layers of silk, and some of the heavier jewels. Ozai stared ahead and continued to sweat.

“You want to skip dinner?” he said.

“I haven't eaten all day,” she answered.

“We could get something sent up to our room,” he said.

“Ozai, please,” she said. “The wedding is for the family as much as it is for us.”

“A family who won't stop staring and judging and making bets as to how long it will be before we are bitterly divorced in shame.”

“You don't have to join in their cynicism,” Ursa said, feeling annoyed. “Just relax, please!”

He leaned down and took her face in his hands, then kissed her, far more passionately than he could in front of the crowd. “I will feel better when I can be alone with my wife.”

“Patience,” she replied with a sly grin.

They took a moment to hold one another close, bodies pressed together, feeding of each other’s heat. He kissed her again before they rejoined the crowd.

Drinks were served. The prince and princess made their rounds, greeting guests and accepting congratulations.

The Fire Lord then summoned Ozai and Ursa to the table, had them sit, and then stood to make a speech.

“I could not be happier at my second son's choice of bride,” the old man said, beaming with pride.

Ozai looked down at his cup as his father spoke, looking somewhat sullen and cynical.

Azulon continued. “Ozai. When your mother died, I thought the Palace would be forever void of the grace and beauty she brought to it. I thought the life and joy only a woman could bring would be lost to our family. And now that I look upon the Lady Ursa, a creature of such exquisite loveliness, I see a future full of light in our home. I see a future full of light for our fine Nation, who will look up to her and see her shining.”

Ozai gripped the side of the table when his mother was mentioned, so tightly his knuckles were white. Ursa put her hand on his and squeezed it.

“May the gods bless you, Ursa. May they bless your hands to be always be gentle and kind in serving my son. May they bless your heart with happiness and peace. May they bless your womb with fertility. It is with sincere joy that I welcome you to my household!”

Azulon sat down. The gathered guests clapped. The feast was brought out, more decadent, more richly spiced, and in larger portions than Ursa had ever seen. Her cup was filled to the brim with a liquor sweet enough to send her tongue dancing, and strong enough to warm her body and cause her head to float.

She kept her eyes on her new husband. He never seemed comfortable when officials came to speak with him, but the liquor eventually loosened him, and Ursa managed to coax a smile or two from him. It got a positive reaction from the gathered company when he put his arm around her and planted a kiss on her nose. The guests did not see his hand under the table, sliding up her knee to her thigh. Ursa slapped it away when it got higher than that. Now that he was stuck with her, she felt a bit more confidant enforcing boundaries.

But the feast seemed to drag on for an eternity. She watched her husband's knee bounce erratically with impatience. She empathized completely. They had to wait for the festivities to end before they could retreat to their quarters and be alone. The celebration tested every ounce of their patience.

Long past midnight when the drunken guests began to shuffle back to the guest rooms, when the orchestra began choosing the more soothing, less upbeat pieces, Ursa finally had a chance to speak to her parents.

Her mother embraced her, smothering Ursa against her breast, refusing to let go, her tears dripping onto Ursa's silk-laden shoulder.

“Mother, I will be okay,” Ursa said.

“But I'm not sure I will be,” Mother said. “Promise me you will write!”

“I promise, Mother.”

“Every day!”

Ursa laughed. “I'll write frequently.”

Mother sniffed. She finally let go.

Ursa saw Ozai watching from a few feet away, averting his eyes from the goodbye happening before him. He kept his face hard, the way he did when trying to bottle down emotion. Maybe due to the fact his own mother hadn't been able to attend.

“I expect your firstborn to be named after me,” Bo said. “I will be very upset if it isn't.”

“Good,” Quon said to Bo. “You can teach it terrible social skills and how to make terrible noises on an Erhu. Uncles are good for something.”

Father took hold of his daughter as soon as mother let go. “The house will not be the same without you,” he said.

“I'll miss you guys too,” she said.

“Do you have it still?” he said, lowering his voice.

“The... your gift?” she said. “Yes. I packed it in my jewelry box.”

“Good,” Father said. He let go. “My mind will be at ease knowing you're keeping it close.” He turned to Ozai, who had been picking at the dirt under his fingernails, and still averting his gaze.

He slapped his hand on Ozai's shoulder and gave it a hardy squeeze. Ozai looked at him, not sure how to react to the gesture.

“Take good care of her, son. I'm trusting you. That's my child. And you don't have any children of your own yet, but... A father's love for his child is... I need you to take good care of her!”

Ozai cleared his throat, and dropped his voice an octave. “I understand, Sir.”

“Dad,” Han corrected. “To you I am Dad.” Ursa's father gave his son in law a hearty smile.

Ozai managed to return the grin, though he looked entirely uncomfortable. To Ozai, fathers were en entirely different beast. “Dad,” he replied, testing how the word tasted on his tongue.

Father gave his shoulder another affectionate pat. He gave Ursa another bittersweet grin. The family went to collect their things, and head home. And Ursa was left to her her new life.

The wife turned to her husband. Ozai was still shaking off the discomfort of speaking with his in laws, and trying to make sense of their foreign behavior. But when Ursa took his hand, his mood changed. The feast had finished. And they were free. She reached up on her toes and kissed him. A chaste sample of the pleasures to come.

They walked arm and arm together out of the ballroom.

o----o----o----o----o----o----o

New living arrangements had been prepared for them, an apartment in the Palace's eastern wing, which was larger than the one Ozai had slept in his entire life. Their belongings had already been brought in and unpacked by the staff. The room was immaculately clean, auspiciously decorated, but already gave the impression that it was lived in.

The staff had gotten to work in other methods of decoration as well. The bed was made in dark fresh sheets. Flower petals lay on it and around it. Incense and candles were burning throughout the room. Jars of oils and ointments, and a bottle of fine Sake, were set for them on the night stand. After all the work that went that went into the ceremony and royal public appearance, still more was expected of them.

But at least they were alone.

Ursa began the long work of removing pins and jewelry from her hair and placing it on the vanity. She removed the new crown she had been given as well. She assumed she was supposed to take care of it when she wasn't wearing it, but she didn't have the energy to think of what to do with it, so it went on the vanity with the other jewels. She eagerly washed the heavy cosmetics off her face. And she didn't bother to fold or hang up her silk finery either. She pealed it from her sweating skin and discarded it on the floor, and then plopped on the bed completely clean and naked, the expensive mattress caressed her aching muscles, and the perfumed air relaxed her tired mind. The life of royalty had its luxuries. She could definitely get used to those.

Her husband made quick work of removing his own clothes. He collapsed beside her, equally tired. She took his big hand in her own, and they lay together for a moment reveling in a shared moment of quiet. She looked over at him, admiring his naked body, his strength evident under layers of skin, his tall height and broad shoulders, his genitals open to the temperate air. She reached over and stroked his shoulder gently.

They didn't need to say a word to each other. To be with him was enough. Everything he needed to know, she confirmed just with a singular touch. He reached out his arm and pulled her into his chest. Her face was pressed into his skin, and she could feel his muscles moving underneath. She could smell his sweat, sweet-smelling, heavy, sticky, musky. Her breasts were pressed against his stomach, and she could feel the warm outline of his penis against her thigh. She snaked her hand down to grab it. He exhaled strongly at her touch, hot breath on her forehead.

She had never felt more warm, more safe, more loved. She was no longer a guest in an another person's bed. This was her bed. Their bed. Her husband. And she belonged here. She did not have to worry about rushing home and explaining her whereabouts. She did not fear embarrassment of being seen emerging from his room, or the servants hearing her cry out in pleasure. This was exactly as it should be.

“It IS our wedding night,” she said, hoping the sentence would finish itself.

“I think our union was consummated quite a while ago,” he said. “No need to pressure yourself.”

“Tell me aren't too tired to make love to me?” she said to him.

He kissed her hair. “We'll see how I feel when I get a little Sake in me,” he said.

She let go of him, and leaned over for the bottle. She didn't bother with using the cups, just uncorked the clay bottle and put hit to his lips. He let her pour it into her mouth. She drank after him. As soon as she set the bottle down, he took her head in his hand and kissed her. She tasted the remaining liquor in his mouth, as he sucked at her lips and pushed his tongue inside of her. Her body was reacting already; her heart was pounding. She could feel her pulse in her stomach and in her lips. She could feel her vulva begin to swell and itch, the muscles in her vaginal walls clamping down upon nothing.

In a moment he was on top of her, his broad arms caging her on either side, his long black hair dripping off the side of his neck and tickling her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting her body go languid, soaking in the ecstasy of human contact as his hands caressed her.

“Touch me,” she breathed.

“I think I am,” he said with a small laugh.

She growled. “You know damn well what I mean!” She grabbed his hand, put it between her legs, and squeezed it between her thighs, hoping desperately to counteract the pressure that was building there.

He turned on his side to get comfortable while he worked her flesh. His other arm rested under her neck, his mouth was open and slobbery on her cheek, biting and licking and sucking at her skin. His fingers traced paths through her anatomy, feeling the structure of her clit, around and between her sweaty labial folds. She shuddered as his forefinger brushed over her entrance.

Her hips curled, grinding on his hand, encouraging her to massage her more strongly. He obeyed, his fingers pinched at her button, and he rubbed the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation was so intense it was almost painful. The sensation possessed her, blinded her to every other thing in the room.

She huffed, and gripped at the blankets next to her, and then sang out. “Keep going,” she cried.

He pressed his mouth into her neck. She could feel him grin. She felt his teeth on her soft skin. His fingers worked harder, faster. She felt like her entire body was about to explode. Her back arched. Her breath caught in her throat. She gritted her teeth. The entire space between her legs convulsed and pulsated, sending shock waves up her spine. When the tension released she screamed again.

He laughed at her reaction. “Is this what you want?” he said.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“A good husband provides for his wife. Here I am providing.”

“Oh shut and keep going!” she said.

He grabbed her legs, turned her on her back, and opened them wide. He shoved his fingers inside her violently. She squeeled. He clawed at the lump of her cervix. He beat at the muscles deep within her body. She felt her walls clench around his fingers, sucking at him, as if trying to swallow his hand. She pushed herself into his hand. He sank deeper, stretching her, jabbing at her. Her uterus began to contract and cramp in response. The friction became less intense as fluid built up inside her. She was now wet enough that she could hear his fingers, sloshing through the mucus. She squeezed her legs around his hand reflexively. He forced them open again. His mouth sank down and he nipped at her clits he worked.

She orgasmed again. It could not possibly have gotten more intense, more wonderful than this.

He let go of her. His goopy fingers grabbed at her hips and her waist.

“Turn over,” he breathed.

She didn't have a chance to comply. He rolled her onto her stomach roughly. He pulled her hips up into the air. Her face was pressed into the bed sheets. She turned her head so she could breath. She couldn't see what he was doing, but she felt his fingers stroke at her entrance, felt his tongue taste her leaking fluids. It caused her to shiver.

Her body clenched with pleasurable anticipation when she felt the round, warm, head of his penis press against her entrance, but only to tickle her, not to do any more than that. She pushed backward into his hips. He held it there for one second and then two.

She yelled in frustration. “Stop teasing me!” she said. “Put it in!”

“No,” he said, an amused lilt in his voice. “I want you to beg!”

She moaned in exacerbation. “Damn it, Ozai!”

“Come on. Let me hear you beg!”

“Please!” she said. “For the love of Grace!”

“Please what?” he said.

“Please shut the fuck up and ravage me!”

“Some submissive, demure wife you are,” he said with a small laugh.

He squeezed her ass in both of his hands, working her flesh like clay. Then he took hold of her pelvis, tightly enough to leave a bruise. She felt him breach her entrance, heard it with a squish of flesh and mucus. She shuddered at the friction, at the delightful pain of being stretched and stuffed. He moaned, a breathy, low sound. His member throbbed within her. She tilted her hips and drove backwards against him, feeling him press against her guts.

He pulled back, and then drove himself into her slowly.

“Don't be gentle!” she said.

“I wasn't planning on it.”

“Well then show me!”

His hands gripped her body even more tightly, he pulled her backwards. Their bodies collided with a smack. Her cervix screamed in pain, and she screamed in pleasure.

“YES!” she hissed.

He did it again, and again, grunting with the effort, humming at the sensation of her body around him. She bobbed her hips in time with him, moving so his member could stimulate every single inch of her insides. He sped up. She felt her body squeezing him.

He was pounding into her so hard she thought he might tear her to pieces. She hoped he would. She could die in this moment, and she would die happy, and content, having gotten everything she had always wanted. She thought she might.

He put arms around her waist and lifted her up onto her knees. He continued thrusting into her as she stared up at the ceiling. One of his hands squeezed her breast, pinching her nipple. The other wrapped gently around her throat. His mouth landed open on her shoulder, and he bit down into her flesh.

She was lost to these sensations. She forgot herself, the world around her, every nerve singing and shrieking within her body in a deafening chorus. She arched her back, her body tensed up, and and a hot electric sensation radiated from her pelvic girdle, ripping through her stomach and down to her toes. Her body was shaking and stiff. She cried out again. She didn't care if anyone heard. She was a married woman. It was her right.

He dropped her she collapsed panting on the sheets, rolling on her back with her knees in the air, taking a moment. Her vulva was burning, yet itching still for more. Her womb was clenched in excitement, filling her stomach with a dull, yet strangely pleasant ache. Her own fluids dripped down onto her buttocks. Her muscles were trembling.

He didn't rest for long. He shoved himself between her thighs, and in a moment was in her again. His big hands grabbed her wrist and pinned them above her head. Her breasts jerked this way and that, from the force of him breeding into her.

She wrapped her legs around him and locked them behind his. She pulled her arms free and grabbed at his back, bringing him down to her level. She dug her nails into his shoulders as she whimpered and moaned in pleasure.

Above her he was still grunting. His face was contorted with the intensity of the exercise. His mouth lulled open and a string of drool drooped down from him onto her chin. She lifted her head and kissed him.

“Keep going!” she said. “Don't stop! Don't you DARE stop!”

“You know I don't quit anything till I'm finished, my dear,” he answered.

“Don't stop!” she whined.

His breath became more ragged; his facial muscles were stiff. He took hold of her legs in his arms, leaned back, and pushed further into her than she thought possible. She yelped. He shouted, almost in fury. His cock throbbed. He filled her with fluid, thick, warm, plentiful. He paused, panting like a tired dog, thrust once more, twice more, and then collapsed on top of her.

Her body was throbbing, shaky, yet totally relaxed. She took a moment to catch her breath, air went in and out of her lungs so quickly her throat hurt. She nudged at her husband.

“You're squishing me,” she said.

He hummed. Then sighed and rolled over, freeing her. She nuzzled into his shoulder, noting how his skin had grown slick and pungent with sweat. She kissed it and tasted the salt. His broad hand reached up and took her cheek in its palm. It still smelled of her body. His thumb caressed her eyebrow ridge. He turned his head to look her in the eye.

“How was it,” he said softly

“Good,” she said whispered in reply.

He snorted softly. “You wouldn't have married me if I wasn't good, would you?”

“Probably not,” she said, grinning into his chest. “You smug bastard.”

He ran his fingers through her tangled, dark-chocolate hair, and kissed her head.

They had the rest of their lives together. Would it always be like this? Would all of her evenings begin with boundless passion and end with overwhelming peace and safety as she lay in her husband's arms? She knew it was impossible to always feel as happy as she felt right now, but would she at least always be this content? It was impossible to imagine ever feeling unhappy in this bed with this man. She never wanted to leave, and she was happy that for tonight, he was all hers.

 

 


	19. A Moon and Six Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa and Ozai enjoy their honey moon -- While it lasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look Sorry about making you guys wait. I haven't written ROF in a while and I have decided to stop trying to write something perfect and start trying to write stuff that's enjoyable. And what you guys really seem to enjoy is delving into the characters relationships and seeing the chemistry between them. So thats what ya'll's gunna get

Chapter 19

 

The wedding gifts were numerous and mostly uninteresting. Diplomats and officers donated trinkets and art from around the world. But Azulon's gift had been more elaborate. A gated tract of land along a beach, fifty miles south of the Capitol, and on it, an elegant mansion, fully staffed with servants.

It was hot when they landed, and far more humid than it was near the Capitol. The sun was pleasantly merciless. When the captain announced they had landed, Ursa went to their cabin to grab her bags only to have a group of servants snatch them from her wordlessly. She had been a princess for two days, and it still unnerved her having people wait on her.

She let the crew members take the bags, and then ran down the plank to catch up with Ozai who was standing on the pier. He was staring up at the house, his hands locked behind his back, his face inscrutable.

The house was elegant, its curved roof reminiscent of the ancient architecture that dotted the Fire Nation's south. Manicured gardens lined the outer walls. And it was tall, three stories at least. Ursa loved it immediately. She could stay here forever.

“This is nice,” she said. “Rather thoughtful of your father to get us a house of all things.”

“It's a summer house,” Ozai said. “I doubt we'll see much of it. He won't let us see much of it, I suspect.”

“Well, it's nice for when we do have it.”

Ozai narrowed his eyes and looked at the house as if he suspected it were booby-trapped.

“What's wrong?” she said.

“My father never gives me anything for free,” Ozai growled.

“What would he want in return for a wedding present?” Ursa said.

Ozai shrugged and headed up the path to the door. Ursa followed him, watching him place his hands on the door frame. “Something to hang over my head,” he said.

“Or grandchildren,” Ursa said, with a grin. “And we have just place to go to give him some.” She hung her hand on his shoulder, felt his body relax under her touch. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

They enjoyed a hearty meal and strong drinks in the airy and well-lit dining room, before ascending to the master bedchamber where they crashed on soft linen sheets. At first it seemed far too hot to make love, but Ursa changed her mind when her husband put his broad hand into the collar of her dress. With the hot air around, it felt amazingly good to strip naked. They soaked the new sheets with their sweat, gnawed bruises into each others' necks, and scratched trenches in each others' backs.

When they were done, their bodies disconnected, and they lay on their sides facing one another. Their sweat clung tightly to their hot skin. The humid air did little to cool them, but the warmth was perfect. Ursa immediately wrapped her arms around Ozai's trunk, and pressing her head and her bare breasts against him. He played with her hair, stroking it, running his fingers through it, brushing it off her sticky neck and shoulders.

“Is this what you were imagining?” she said to him, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

“Imagining when?” he answered.

“All those times you were so eager to get me to yourself? Or at least get me? Always asking me to stay late, and get drunk with you, and practice fire bending with you, and eat lunch and dinner with you? Were you imagining the two of us on our honeymoon, relaxing in each others arms with nothing to worry about?”

“I hardly say there's nothing to worry about,” he said.

“No there isn't,” she said. She looked up at him and grinned. “I am your wife now, and I forbid you to worry, not until the honeymoon is over!”

“I thought you were the responsible one?” he said, grinning back.

“I am your responsibility now!” she said.

He cupped his palm around her cheek, feeling the contours of her face. She loved it when he touched her face. His hands had massaged her breasts, had caressed her stomach and thighs, had pressed against the very doors of her womb. But feeling them on her face was ten times more erotic. He wasn't touching just her body, he was touching her.

“If you are my responsibility, you are a light burden indeed.”

“I know,” she cooed.

He reached down and kissed her, his open mouth embracing her soft lips. The sensation of the kiss traveled down her neck, through her chest and her stomach, to the space between her legs, which ached with longing. She had spent all evening making love to him, and she was exhausted and sore but she wanted more. She pressed herself more tightly against him. She could hear his heartbeat through his sternum.

“No,” he said. “Of course I didn't imagine this. You know I'm not the type to think that far ahead in anything.”

She laughed. “I'm not sure I thought this far ahead either.”

His broad, warm fingers, the scent of her body lingering upon them, brushed over her cheek, then swept the hair out of her eyes and behind her ears. “I could spend the rest of my life in bed with you...”

“It sounds nice,” she giggled. “But we haven't been down to the beach yet.”

He quickly grabbed the sheet and pulled it over her naked body. And then he shouted for the house keeper. “Tell the servants to go to their barracks and remain there till the morning. My wife and I need our privacy.”

They went down to the beach, not bothering to get dressed, washed off their sweat in the cool sea, and watched the moon rise over the horizon.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

They lost track of time at the beach house. The days bled together as they stayed up late and slept through the mornings. The afternoons were sometimes busy, with stage plays in town, walking through the mountains, wading in the ocean. And of course in between all of that they made love. They turned every surface in the house into a marital bed, as well as the garden outside and the beach. The poor servants feared to walk into any room lest they see more than they wanted.

But before dinner each evening, Ozai headed down to the beach alone. He did not allow Ursa to join him, and he did not allow her to alter the plan by suggesting different activities. So she would watch him out the window of their bedroom. He'd stand on the beach shirtless and barefoot, his face tense with anxiety and concentration, and he would fire bend. He would practice the same form over and over and over, first without fire, and then with. He would not sit down or take a sip of water until he got it perfect. When the servants announced the meal was ready, Ursa would have to beg him to come inside to eat.

The dinner conversation was always over something mundane and light, plans for tomorrow morning, stories they told each other about things from their pasts, joking and flirting until it was time to retire. But Ursa could see it in Ozai's face, in the bags under his eyes that didn't seem to go away. He was practicing because he was scared. He knew what was coming. Their month ticked away faster than they would have liked.

And then one afternoon the beach house received a knock on the door. The housekeeper let the guest inside. Ursa had barely begun to wake up. She was lying in the bed, her face pressed into her husband's ribs, breathing in time with the wind coming through the window, noting the warm noon-day sunlight entering the room. She could hear the housekeeper speaking to someone downstairs. But then the voices were accompanied by creaking footsteps, and a rap on the bedroom door.

Ozai jumped awake, almost kicking his wife in alarm. “Go away!” he called.

The housekeeper replied through the door. “Sir, there is a guest who needs to speak to you.”

“Tell them to leave!”

The housekeeper sighed. “It isn't that type of guest, Sir.”

He rolled off the bed, swearing. She watched him fumble around looking for his clothes, enjoying the sight of his naked body before he covered it up. “Damn my father and his minions...” He adjusted the collar of his shirt and hardened his face before he cracked open the door.

Ursa willed herself to move, covering her bare chest with a sheet in case the guest decided to peak through the cracked door. She wanted to go back to sleep, but she was forced to listen to Ozai's conversation.

Ozai greeted the guest with a stiff and tepid voice. “Iroh...”

“You were due to report to the harbor 6 days ago,” Iroh's voice replied.

“And this is such a grave offense Father sends his favorite child to correct it?” Ozai said.

Iroh exhaled, restraining his temper. “No, I figured if I was going to interrupt your honeymoon it would be best if I did it myself instead of insulting you by sending a subordinate.”

“You didn't have to come! You didn't have to send anyone! I was...”

“You were going to come on your own?” Iroh said. “No, you wouldn't have.”

“I'm not a coward!” Ozai said.

“No one said you were! Ozai...”

Ursa looked up from the bed. Ozai pushed the door open wider, and stepped forward. Iroh held his ground, putting up his hands, hoping to calm his brother down.

“I understand!” Iroh said. “I don't agree at all with Father's orders but...”

“But you'll enforce them, won't you!”

Iroh sighed. A conversation of less than 30 seconds had already turned into a fight. He looked into the room and nodded towards Ursa. “Hello, Ursa. Sorry if I woke you.”

“Good morning,” she said, her voice still groggy with sleep.. “Or afternoon...”

“What do you want with her!” Ozai said.

“Ursa, you might want to get dressed and come with us to the dock,” Iroh said. “You'll want to...” he struggled to finish his sentence. “You'll want to say goodbye.” He gave Ozai an unwanted pat on the shoulder, then turned to head downstairs.

Ozai leaned in the doorway for a moment, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He followed his brother downstairs reluctantly.

When Ursa arrived downstairs herself, her husband and her brother in law were sitting at the table, arms crossed over their chests, wordless. She joined them and the cook served them all breakfast.

“We're first going to report to Sozin's Island,” Iroh explained. “For training.”

“Training for what?” Ozai said. “I've been forced to study military strategy since I was six years old and have been training as a fire bender since even before that.”

“And you need more,” Iroh said. “Please, stop shouting down everything I say. I'm just trying to prepare you.”

“And what will be doing on Sozin's Island. Like there's anything I can do there I can't do here or in the capital.”

“Training in cold climates at a high altitude. You can't do that here. You and I will be stationed in the north of the Earth Kingdom. We'll be fighting through the winter. Come to think of it, Ozai, I don't think you've ever even seen snow before. I'll say the first time I saw it I thought the world had been erased, like someone had poured wine over a water color painting. And it was up to my knees! And...”

“Stop stop stop, I don't need you launching into story mode right now, Iroh,” Ozai said. He closed his eyes.

“I want to hear about the snow,” Ursa said quietly. “It was up to your knees? What does it feel like?”

“Very wet,” Iroh said, a slight grin coming over his face. “Gets in your boots, soaks your pants and the hems of your robes and cloak. And you can see your breath in the air in front of you. It scared the life out of me the first time I saw my breath in front of me.”

“Stop!” Ozai said. “Please!” He pounded his hands on the table. “Iroh, you keep swinging back and fourth between lecturing and chitter-chattering and it's grating on my eardrums. This is stressful enough as it is. And it's especially insulting considering you are interruption my honeymoon!”

“A honey moon and six days,” Iroh corrected.

“You pulled me out of bed with my wife!”

“Ozai,” Ursa said, putting her hand on her husband's arm. “I think he's just trying to help--”

He shrugged her away and turned to face her. “You stay out of this!”

“Don't talk to me that way!” Ursa said.

“Don't interrupt me!” he snapped back.

“I'm just saying,” Ursa said. “I think you're brother is--”

“I said be quiet!”

Iroh got to his feet. “Ozai!” he shouted. Areal shout that rattled through Ursa's eardrums and echoed off the distant walls of the grand house.

Silence followed.

Iroh inhaled and exhaled, fire bender's smoke emerging from his nose as he did. “You have 20 minutes to finish eating your rice, and to pack a bag of things to bring. I will not hear any more arguing. Either with me or with your wife, who... who you might not ever see again. Or I swear upon heaven and all the stars within it, I will recommend your general have you disciplined upon your arrival.”

“I'm a prince, I don't have to take discipline from some...”

“Recommendation written and sent,” Iroh said. “And now you've pissed me off, and so it's ten minutes now.” He pushed his chair into the table and went to stand in the garden.

Ursa watched Iroh through the window, moving his arms in a breathing exorcise, desperate to calm his anger. Ozai sat at the table with both his fists clutched in front of him. Ursa wanted to urge him to eat, but she wasn't sure how he would react to such urging. She was upset, almost shaking, but she didn't want anyone to see. So she went outside to walk down to the beach.

She hadn't expected Ozai to yell at her the way he had. She was unnerved by it, not sure what exactly she was feeling or thinking. She hadn't done anything to him. Did he have to speak to her that way right before he went away? Should she say something to him, and let that confrontation spoil their goodbye? Or should she forget it, let him go off to war with a small semblance of peace while she waited at home ruminating, perhaps for months? She could understand why he raised his voice. He was angry, frustrated, and undoubtedly scared. She knew in her heart he was scared. She had known during the entirety of their trip that he was scared.

She paced up and down the water's edge, emotions swirling in her stomach.

Finally she saw Iroh and Ozai walk out of the house. Ozai had only one medium sized-bag over his shoulder, only the bare necessities. Everything he would need would likely be provided for him, and he likely wasn't allowed to bring much else. She pulled up her skirt to follow them.

Ozai had calmed down considerably, but still was in no mood to talk. No one was. They walked down into Ember Island town, making their way past street vendors and the hustle and bustle of the port. Their ship was a large one, military and armored. It dwarfed every vessel next to it.

Iroh and Ozai were allowed to board without question, but Ursa had to negotiate for the right to climb aboard, even for a moment.

The deck was freshly cleaned. The crew scrambled around like bees, loading things and unloading things and inspecting other things. This was routine for them, some laughed and chatted while they worked, and others looked completely bored with their tasks. But it was not routine for Ursa.

“Prince Ozai!” A young naval officer stepped forward and took the bag from Ozai's hands. “Allow me to take this to your cabin, Sir.”

“At least I get a cabin,” Ozai muttered.

“Of course you do, Sir,” the sailor said with a polite, yet somehow disgustingly self-satisfied smile. “I've been charged with ensuring your accommodations are as comfortable as possible, Sir! As well as your personal protection until you've finished your training on Sozin's Island. I highly doubt any of this will be nearly as luxurious as you are used to but we will do what we can certainly.”

Ozai's mood lightened slightly at that assurance. “I should hope so...”

“Listen...” Iroh said. “Mr...”

“Chief Petty Officer Zhao from Caldera City, Sir,” the navyman said with a salute.

“We'll have time for introductions and a tour in a little while,” Iroh said.

“I'll be waiting right here whenever you need me, Sirs,” Zhao said. “Or would you prefer I continue preparations in your cabin? Perhaps you would like some tea sent to your rooms?”

Ozai snorted. “What an insufferable brown-noser,” he said aloud. “Someone is eager for a promotion. What else can we get him to do? Recite poetry? Dance? Oral Sex?”

“Ozai...” Iroh said.

“If that's what my commanding officer asks of me,” Zhao said, almost grinning.

Ozai laughed and patted the officer on the shoulder. “I like this one!”

Zhao beamed..

“Glad to see you are making friends,” Iroh grumbled. “Zhao, please go below deck and help with the inventory!”

Zhao saluted and scampered off to do his task, like a dog excitedly doing tricks for scraps of pork.

Ursa crossed her arms over her chest. Men... A part of her wished she could go with Ozai, to see the Earth Kingdom, to be there for him, and comfort him through the stress that would follow. But she was also glad she didn't have to spend the next several months with men and their strange dances for dominance and petty politics.

Iroh sighed. “We do need to go,” he said to Ozai.

Ursa looked up at Ozai. Just an hour ago they had been lying pressed against each other, sleeping late and listening to the sound of each others' breath. And tomorrow morning they would each wake up alone. There wasn't much they could say.

“Are...” Ozai coughed. “Are you going to be okay? In the palace without me?”

Ursa tried to force a smile. “I think I'll manage,” she said. “If you write to me.”

“I will,” he said.

“I will too,” she said. “I'll sprinkle a little of my perfume on the parchment like they do in the old stories.”

He almost laughed. “Use the kind you have in that red bottle. The cheep stuff makes me noxious.”

“I will,” she said.

He reached forward and put his arms around her. In the safety of his embrace her emotions finally surfaced. She tried to stop herself from crying but it wasn't any use. He cradled her head against her shoulder while she cried into it. Then he leaned back and kissed her, a long, sweet kiss that they held indefinitely, so they could remember how the others' lips tasted.

But eventually they had to part.

 


	20. Claustrophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa adjusts to the royal life, and isn't sure she likes it. Not that she wasn't warned.

Ursa stayed for a few more days at the beach house. She enjoyed the beach, and the ocean, and the luxury of the luxury of her accommodations, but eventually the atmosphere became oppressive.

The maid servants were sympathetic to her. The housekeeper cooed how hard it had been when her husband had gone to war, as she laid porridge on the table for Ursa to eat. But the servants were not her friends. They could not be. She was a princess. On the day of her wedding Ursa had been transformed by Fire Nation law into a strange and very different beast. They were uncomfortable engaging her in conversation, and Ursa realized that it was inappropriate for her to try and initiate it.

On the fourth day she arranged to spend the afternoon in Ember Island town. She had money to spend, and longed to see the activity of the dock, to speak with the street vendors, to watch children play ballgames in the courtyard. But one of the guards stopped her.

“Obviously if my lady wishes to go, I cannot stop her, however, I highly advice against it, should word leak out that you went, there could be trouble.” The guard was red faced and timid as he spoke, not sure how exactly he should correct a superior's behavior.

“Trouble?”

“I could get in trouble,” the guard said. “And the people of the court will talk. I'm sorry, my Lady. It isn't proper.”

“Proper... to go into town?” Ursa said.

“Now that you're married,” the guard said.

“Every married women I know goes into town every now and then,” Ursa said, she felt herself growing angry.

“Perhaps for a common woman, my lady, but for a princes...” the guard said. “I was given instructions by my lady's husband to watch over her. And to watch over her... behavior as well.”

Ursa took a deep breath. “And if you accompanied me? Would that be proper?” she said.

He was now redder than a tomato and sweating like a cold glass of water. “I would have to write to the prince and ask him,” he said. “The instructions he gave me were not specific.”

Ursa eyed the guard carefully. No one had discussed such royal protocol with her before, and she did not like having to learn it from a pimply faced guard who stared at her as if she might eat him. The young man did truly give the impression his job was on the line, so she would humor him.

“Propriety or no, I cannot spend another day in this house,” she said. “Can we arrange a ship to return me to the capital?”

The guard bowed. “It can be done, my lady.”

When Ursa arrived in the capitol again, she was greeted by its noise, its smells, its bustle. She remembered the day she rode north in a carriage with her family and saw the city for the first time, how much she had hated it. Things were different now. Now this city was her home, a place where she would live her life and raise her children. But the city was also more foreign than ever before. She looked out the window of the carriage at the shops she and her brothers would visit, at the town square with Sozin's statue where she and Ozai would go to practice fire bending. She would not be allowed to walk these streets like she had before.

The carriage stopped well within the palace grounds. The guard opened the door and helped her down. A servant accompanied her to her quarters.

A gaggle of handmaids were waiting for her inside. They informed her they were fresh hires, assigned specifically to her. They offered to draw her a bath, and serve her lunch, and braid her hair. The attention was overwhelming. She didn't want any of that. She wanted some company. And people who were not her equals could never give that to her freely or willingly. She allowed them to bring her something to eat, but then ask that she be given some privacy.

Alone in the chambers she drained the bowl of soup quickly, reveling in the chance to abandon her table manners. And then she laid out some ink and parchment to write.

_To Mother, Father, Quon and Bo,_

_The beach house on Ember Island is absolutely beautiful and I hope we can entertain the four of you there next summer. I feel my homesickness is starting to take hold finally. I know I will overcome it eventually but I do miss you. It is made worse now that my husband has been sent to the front. Please remember him in your prayers. Please write soon..._

She wrote other letters as well, people in Hira'a. It had been a long time since she had sent correspondents to her home town. But the urge overcame her today. One for Mrs. Tao. One for her friends in the theater troop. One for her old fire bending teacher. One for Ikem. The last one was particularly strange to write. She didn't know what to say to the young man she had fawned over as a younger woman. The letter would dig up old histories and pain she wasn't sure she wanted to put him through. But she decided to send it anyway.

And then she wrote to Ozai.

_The staff at the palace have been nothing but kind and accommodating to me. However it's been difficult finding ways to occupy my time in my new home without your company. I feel guilty describing the troubles of royal life while you are fighting in the cold. And I can't imagine the difficulty the enlisted men in your regiment are no doubt enduring. Stay safe my love. Think about me on your lonesome nights._

She allowed the ink to dry, sealed the parchment with wax, and found a manservant outside who was willing to take them to a courier.

And with no letters left to send the boredom returned.

For a few days afterword, she managed to pass the time. She practiced her fire bending forms in the garden. She found the library and absorbed some books on the southern water tribe. But eventually that lost its appeal as well.

“What do most of the ladies do to entertain themselves in the palace?” she asked one of her handmaids one night as they were preparing her fore bed.

The young woman looked down at the floor and visibly gulped. It wasn't long before Ursa realized she was not really supposed to converse with the servants. “It is said that Lady Ila was a talented poet,” the maidservant squeaked. “She would sit by the garden on mild days and write for hours. Or so I am told...”

“Anything where I can interact with other people?” Ursa said, trying to hide her exasperation.

The maid servant was unable to answer.

On the third day in the palace, she gave up trying to find her own entertainment. What she needed was to not feel useless. She needed work. She made a pot of tea, put it on a tray, and carried it upstairs.

Fire Lord Azulon had already reported to his chambers for the evening, despite the fact the sun was still high in the sky, and most of the palace had not even gathered for the evening meal. Old men in every social class were the same it seemed. But he allowed her to enter when she announced her presence. He was sitting in a large chair next to the bed. It was somewhat disarming seeing the Fire Lord in just a simple cotton robe instead of his usual regalia, but he wasn't embarrassed. In fact he seemed happy to see her.

“You come bearing gifts, it appears,” he said with a grin.

“Yes, my lord,” she said. “But just tea.”

“Your presence is a gift in and of itself.”

She blushed. “I was afraid I would be a bother to you.”

“Don't be ridiculous, my dear, in fact I have been impatiently waiting for you to call upon me. It is not proper that we should ignore each other. We are family after all. Take the tea tray and set it on the breakfast table, and then help me from my chair.”

She did as she was told. She walked the old man from one seat to another, and helped him to lower himself onto the cushion despite his failing knees. When he was seated, he took the tea pot and poured a portion into each of the two cups.

They drank slowly.

“What leaves are these?” the old man asked.

“It's a cultivar from my home region,” she said.

“It is not a cheep tea you have brewed for me.”

“No, my lord.”

“Father. You are to call me father, my dear.”

She smiled. “If you say so Father.”

“Did you buy these leaves in the Capitol?”

“No, Father,” she said. Her voice dropped a little. “They were a gift, a going-away present from an old friend, before we moved here.”

“Who?”

“She was a neighbor of ours. An old widow, and a friend of the family. She taught me how to garden, all the herbs and medicinal plants, what they were used for, how to grow them and prepare them. She grew these tea bushes her self. And she gave me some of the leaves when we moved.”

“You miss her.”

“Yes, sir,” Ursa said. “I wrote her a few times. But I don't know how much good that will do. She never learned to read. I hope she found someone to read the letters for her. For a while, my homesickness had been fading. I was getting used to life in the capitol city, but the last few days...”

Azulon smiled gently. “I imagine you are feeling quite homesick and lonesome these past few days, especially with your husband away. It is to be expected for a young bride.”

“I don't want to be ungrateful, father, my accommodations have been very comfortable.”

“Luxury and riches cannot comfort hurts of the heart, I'm afraid. I learned that the hard way when I was a young man,” Azulon said. “What is it you came to speak to me about?”

“Well, Father...” Ursa said, suddenly a lot more nervous than she thought she would be. “I was hoping... I was hoping I could have my job back.”

“As a scribe?” he said.

“Yes, Father,” she said.

“What for? You don't need the money, I would think.”

Ursa was rather surprised with Azulon's response. “No, Sir, I don't need the money. But It's been rather difficult, I... I haven't had much to do since returning from Ember Island.”

“You are bored,” Azulon said. “And you desire something to occupy your time.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hmm. I don't think that would be appropriate, Ursa,” he said, sipping his tea.

She resisted the urge to get angry. “Why not.”

“You are a married woman.”

“I may be married, but it isn't as if I have children to watch or house work to do.”

“No,” Azulon said. “But it would not be appropriate to take you out before the court and parade you around like a prize on display. It would not be proper. It would be a violation of my son's trust.”

“I don't think that simply appearing in your office as your scribe will lead to any type of impropriety.”

“Your appearance itself would be an impropriety. Ursa, in the palace, among the royal family, there are norms and customs that are different from that of the lower classes whence you came. They cannot simply be amended on a whim.”

“No,” Ursa said. She remembered the nervous guard who refused to let her leave the summer home to head into town. She felt her stomach twist in anger. “But If the Fire Lord wished to amend them, that would be his prerogative.”

“My dear, these customs are older than I am. If that's possible to believe,” he said with a small chuckle. “As Fire Lord, I have the right to change these ways. But also as Fire Lord, it is my sacred duty to guard and preserve them. I'm sorry Ursa, I cannot allow it.”

“There's no way I can get you to change your mind? Please, Sir! I can't simply sit around in the gardens useless and idle. I don't think I could stand it.”

“Do not beg, Ursa. It is unbecoming.” he said, his tone growing more firm, though still gentle.

She looked down at her tea cup. She had to decide carefully whether or not she wanted to fight this. She was angry. It wasn't as if she were going to be unfaithful to her husband simply because she around the male members of the court. And either way, she was not a possession to be protected or guarded. She resented being spoken to that way. But at the same time, her father in law, with all his rank and power, had made his desires clear.

“I understand how you feel, Ursa,” he said, reaching out and patting her hand.

Of course he could not ever understand how she felt. How could the most powerful man in the world understand the burdens of womanhood? Especially burdens other people artificially placed upon her?

“You will learn the customs of the court soon enough. You will understand your role here more clearly. You will adapt and and adjust and learn to thrive here. My wife was quite young when I married her, and she came from a higher birth than you did, but even for her it was a difficult change. She soon became a model lady of the court.”

“But what will I do in the mean time?” Ursa said. “Perhaps there is something else I can do, that is less public. I can copy old texts. I can write correspondences. I could...”

Azulon stroked at his mustache. “We could use someone to help calculate figures.”

“I'm not sure I would know how to do that,” Ursa said.

“It is not much more than simple algebra.”

“I never learned, I'm afraid.”

“Well,” Azulon said. “I have found a solution to your boredom, it seems. Your parents did express their desire that you continue your education. And I promised them I would provide that to you.”

Ursa looked up. “You're going to send me to the Capitol City College?”

“Oh, Heavens! No! We cannot have you flouncing about the town like a stray dog.”

Ursa winced at the simile.

“But we certainly can find you a respectable tutor.”

Ursa felt herself relax slightly, her anger decreasing in sting though not going away entirely. “I would appreciate that. Father,” she said.

“Excellent!” Azulon said. “I shall make the arrangements.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, forcing a smile.

“But I do have one requirement, one stipulation,” he said. “You must report to me to tell me what you have learned.” His smile returned. “I cannot stand the loneliness of this palace any more than you can.”

She smiled back. “I will, sir.”

He drained the rest of his tea cup. “Now, perhaps you'd best returning to your own chambers, my dear. I'm afraid an old man needs his rest.”

Ursa nodded, thanked the old man, and left with the tea set.

Heading back to her own chambers Ursa was left feeling unsettled. It wasn't that the Fire Lord had denied her request. She could handle not getting what she wanted. It took her a moment to identify the sensation that was bothering her. It was claustrophobia. In this grand palace with its labyrinth hallways and cavernous chambers, she was claustrophobic.

If she wanted to entertain herself, she had to do it within the walls of the palace. If she wanted to work, it had to be away from the prying eyes of the court. She was an owned woman.

She hadn't made a mistake, had she, marrying into the royal family? Yes, she had sacrificed a lot, but she was gaining a lot as well. She had her husband after all, who loved her. And why was she thinking of these concerns now, when it was too late to turn back? She was angry at herself for even feeling this unease. How many girls of her station had the opportunity to become princesses after all? How could she be so ungrateful?

An even darker thought crossed her mind. What if Ozai didn't come home. Would she have to spend the rest of her life sequestered in the palace walls alone? Could she handle that?

But what was done was done. This was her role now. If she fought her role, it would fight back. And with the entirety of Fire Nation tradition and the Fire Lord himself on the other side, she surely would lose. If she accepted her role, perhaps a part of her would die, a part that was vital to who she was, but one she had always taken for granted.

Ozai had warned her about this. The closer she got to power, the less power she herself would have. Even as a man, he had faced this claustrophobia in his own way. She wished he was here so she could talk to him about it. She hoped he made it back so she could talk to him.

But in the mean time all she could do was adapt, like Azulon had said. And continuing her education seemed like a sensible place to start.

 


	21. 21: Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa learns the truth about her new Father in law, and the reality of her life as a member of the royal family.

Chapter 21. Revelations

 

The next month was spent mostly in the library. Ursa committed fully to her studies. It felt good to be doing something at least a little productive, even if it wasn't her first choice.

She also received replies to her letters.

_Dear, Ursa,_

_Your mother and I are very glad you are adjusting to life in your new home. Yes, your husband is in our prayers. Please tell us if you hear from him. Bo is still attending the Fire Bending club meetings. He says it isn't the same without you there, though he is not offended by your absence, understanding you have new responsibilities and expectations placed upon you. Quon is joining me in the office more frequently. He has applied to the Capital City College for the upcoming semester. We anxiously await their reply. Your mother has taken up music again, though she has given up teaching Bo. (Which all of our ears are thankful for.) It is nice hearing her play once again. She misses you terribly. I am my same usual self. Not much to report there. We hope we will be allowed to visit you in the near future. Please write again._

_Father._

Another came from her home town.

_Dear Ursa,_

_I'm so happy you decided to write. I'm glad you've found your fortune in the Capitol. We're doing The Fisherman's Bride for the fall play this year. You would have been perfect for the role of the Island Queen. Mrs. Tao was very happy to get your letter too. Her health is holding up. She says to make sure you drink the tea she sent you and to write if you want her to send you more. She also says to make sure you continue to practice your fire bending. We miss you. But we're carrying on. I miss you. A lot. I think about you from time to time. But please don't read too much into that._

_Ikem_

The snippets of her old life, writing back to her, filled her with melancholy nostalgia she couldn't explain. She was happy to receive the letters, but reading them was painful in a way she didn't expect. She folded the replies in a box for safe keeping.

But no letter came from Ozai. She had sent the first letter a month ago, and three more since. Surely it would not have taken this long for the messenger to reach Sozin's Island. It was far north, but only a few days trip by boat. She thought about the fight they'd had on the day he'd left. Was he angry with her?

The loneliness didn't go away, even though the boredom did somewhat. She looked forward every week to having tea with her father-in-law. While he had offended her somewhat with his old-fashioned ideas on propriety, he was still family. All old people were old-fashioned anyway.

On this day she was particularly anxious to meet with him. There were things she wanted to talk to him about, but wasn't sure she was ready. She had a lot on her mind. Either way she looked forward to pleasant conversation.

She prepared the tea carefully. Azulon had taught her the finer points of the art, how certain types needed to be brewed at certain temperatures. How different spices could be mixed with the leaves to achieve different flavors. She knew by this point exactly how her father-in-law enjoyed it.

She carried the tea tray up the stairs to Azulon's chambers. His door was already open, and he was already sitting at the table waiting for him. She set the tea tray on the table. Even after all this time, she was not used to seeing the old king in casual clothing.

“Close the door, my dear,” he said. “Lest we have all the servants and guards eaves dropping.”

She complied. “Are we talking about something important?”

“Oh you know how it is,” Azulon said. “This palace has paper-thin walls as it is. We don't need to encourage the gossip further.” He took the tea pot and attempted to pour himself a cup. His old hands shook as he did.

“Let me help you, father,” she said. She took the pot and poured his cup for him.

“Thank you, my dear.”

They drank the fragrant brew slowly, savoring it's expensive taste and smell. In her days as the daughter of a low-level official, Ursa had never tasted expensive tea before. Being royalty had it's charms, she was learning quickly.

“Tell me, my dear,” he said. “How is it working out with those tutors I've hired for you?”

Azulon had selected and hired all of the tutors himself. Ursa had not been given much say in the matter, to her disappointment. But she couldn't complain. Of course, he had hired all women. He was serious in his intention to avoid even the appearance of impropriety.

“It's going well,” Ursa said. “My mathematics tutor is very patient and helpful. I was surprised how young she is though. I think she might be younger than I am. I like the naturalist too. I never thought the natural sciences were interesting but she makes them interesting. And she also helped me with...”

“Go on?” Azulon said.

“I was feeling unwell,” Ursa said, looking down at her teacup. “She knows about human medicine, and she had some ideas as to what it might be.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, my dear. What did she say?”

Ursa was careful. She trusted her Father-in-law. But she also wasn't sure how much she wanted to share at this point. “Well, it was just some ideas. I'm feeling better today.”

“Ah,” Azulon said. “And what about the other instructors?”

“My writing tutor is nice. My Fire Bending teacher. She didn't believe me when I told her how much I know already. She wanted to start me on the basic forms. She doesn't think Black Island Style counts as real fire bending. Which hurt my feelings a bit. Because I really did practice and train and work hard when I was growing up in Hira'a.”

“Perhaps you can humor her for the time being,” Azulon said. “You will impress the Capitol Nobility if you can master both the regional styles and the traditional style she wants to teach you.”

“You're right,” Ursa said. “She's a bit rigid, but she's not terrible. My history tutor on the other hand...”

“You dislike her?” Azulon raised his eyebrow.

“We were talking today about the unification of the Earth Kingdom during the Second Age. We were reading about The Black Prince of the East, and how he finished his father's work of conquering the western provinces.”

“The Black Prince...” Azulon's eyes lit up. “An interesting figure he was. Not even an earth bender. But he was a brilliant strategist. Did you learn about his cavalry?”

“Yes,” Ursa said. “It was interesting, how he had mounted archers, unlike any his enemies had fought before. And even against the earth benders of Ba Sing Se they were successful. I wanted to learn more about him. I asked my instructor if there were any other books in our library about him. I wanted to know if our soldiers in the Earth Kingdom were using any of his strategies. She dismissed the idea outright. She disagreed with me, and in fact she was rather angry about it. She said that of course fire bending was superior to any strategies that might come out of the Earth Kingdom, and I as a fire bender should know that.”

“It isn't,” Azulon said with a small shrug.

“What?” Ursa said.

“Fire Bending is not superior to Earth bending in combat. Earth bending is more versatile. It can be defensive as well as offensive. It is difficult for a lone fire bender to go against an earth bender if he is not particularly skilled. Our victories in the Earth Kingdom have been much like the Black Prince's, a product of innovative strategy and novel technology. The Fire Nation troops are disciplined, and our organized industry has served us well. Bending is only one tool of many a nation needs to fight a war. I learned that the hard way during my own military career.”

“Really?” Ursa leaned forward. Azulon was full of stories. And if Ursa was lucky she might get to hear one of them.

“Yes. You can tell the old woman the Fire Lord himself disagrees with her!” He chuckled.

Ursa laughed too. “But of course,” she said. “It makes you wonder why we haven't conquered the Earth Kingdom yet. If our technology is as good as it is.”

Azulon set his tea cup down. “You're tongue is quite free, Princess Ursa.”

She looked down at the floor. “My apologies sir. I meant no offense. I just was... curious.”

Azulon stared at her a moment, and then laughed heartily. He gave Ursa's shoulder a pat. “Of course you were, my dear! What use do I have of people who refuse to speak honestly?” He took a deep breath to recover from the laugh. “We could speak for hours and hours about the victories and defeats of the war, and why we have won this and lost that. Perhaps a different time.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. A wave of relief washed over her.

They poured themselves second cups of tea.

“Father?” Ursa said. “I was curious... has my husband written you recently?”

“You have no need to worry yet, my dear, he is no doubt still undergoing his training in the northern islands. It will be another six weeks at least before he is sent to the front.”

“So he has written you?”

“His brother keeps an eye on him for me.”

Ursa was annoyed. A _yes_ or _no_ answer was what she wanted. “It's just he has been gone for more than a month, and I haven't heard from him at all. I've written to him a few times.”

“The letters take a long time to travel, Ursa, and he is quite busy with his training. If he has gotten them, he may not have had time to reply.”

“Maybe I should write him again,” Ursa said.

“Hmm...” Azulon hummed as he took another sip of tea. “It is best not to distract him to excess, my dear,” he said. “The war is troubling enough for him, and concerns from home may only increase his stress.”

“It could also cheer him up,” Ursa suggested.

Azulon shrugged. “Even joy can be distracting.”

Ursa sighed.

“Something else is on your mind...”

Ursa didn't answer right away. She wasn't sure she wanted to reveal her news yet. It was too early to know for sure. But the lack of contact with her husband only served to frustrate the matter.

“No, Sir,” she said.

“I can spot a lie,” Azulon said. He reached forward and placed his old hands on hers. Their warmth radiated through their paper-thin skin. It was a kind gesture, but also somewhat overwhelming for Ursa. “You are speaking only to me, my dear. Whatever is said between us is said in the deepest confidence. The door is closed.” He looked her in the eye and a smile stretched over his lips. “Speak, my dear.”

“Perhaps another time, Father,” she said.

“It saddens me that you do not trust me, Ursa,” he said.

She looked off toward the wall, avoiding his gaze. Now was not the time. Not so soon. “I will tell you when I have more information,” she said. “I don't have much to tell you now.”

“Well, perhaps we can enjoy the suspense together?” he said.

She didn't say anything. He was not making conversation anymore. He was interrogating her.

He sighed. “Oh, I suppose I will find out soon enough,” he said. “After all, the walls here are quite thin, as I said before.”

The conversation fell into an awkward silence. Azulon did not remove his hands from Ursa's.

“Maybe we should get some sleep, Father,” she said. “It's far past sundown.”

He nodded slowly. His old eyes were fixed upon her hand, which he squeezed in his own. His brow creased.

“What is it?” Ursa said.

“I was lost,” he said. “In memory.”

“Of what?”

“Oh, things long past, of realities that have long since ceased to be.”

Ursa wasn't sure what to say to that. She pulled her hand away. “It is very late. I think I'd best return to my chambers.”

“Surely you can stay up for a bit longer?”

“I'm afraid not. I really must be getting to bed.”

Azulon folded his aging head in his hands. He was quiet for a minute. Ursa watched him. She wasn't sure what emotion he was displaying, or whether it was genuine.

“I suppose a lonely widower like myself grows accustom to such oppressive isolation. With my children off to war, and my wife long gone.... It has been so long since....” He looked up. His face was sad and pained. “Since she died, it has been...” He gave a long shaky sigh and took Ursa's hand again. “Please do not leave me.”

Ursa felt her skin beginning to perspire. Very quickly the evening had gone from casual and pleasant to desperately uncomfortable.

“Father, I need to retire,” she said softly. “And you look exhausted. You really look like you use some sleep.”

“You do not understand, Ursa... the pressure I face as king. How lonely it is with no equals to confide in. My friends, my lovers, they come to me out of duty, or for a chance to gain favors with power, and not out of true friendship or affection... I beg you not to leave me.”

“You need sleep!” Ursa said. She stood up. She took hold of Azulon's arm and helped the old man rise. She walked him into the main room of his chambers and to his his grand bed.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said. He rubbed his eyes. “I... I'm sorry. My emotions have overtaken me, I'm afraid.”

“I understand,” Ursa said. She helped him pull off the outer layers of his robe, then pulled back the blankets so he could lay down. “Do you want me to send in one of the servants? Do you want perhaps another cup of tea?”

He sat down slowly and looked up into her eyes.

“Or a glass of water?” she offered.

His hand reached up, and brushed her cheek. The feeling of his skin over her face caused a painful electric tingle to run down her spine. Her body tightened like a spring coil.

“Stay...” he said.

She tried to back away, but at that moment, his hand reach forward and grabbed at the fabric of her dress. He did not loosen his grip as she pulled backward. His other hand wrapped around her wrist, and began to heat up and steam. She yelped at his fire bender's heat. She desperately tried to pull away but he did not relinquish.

“I will not be denied!” he growled.

“Let go!” she shouted.

“You have no right to disobey your king!”

“I'm married to your son!”

“I own my son. I own you!” he hissed.

His hand was beginning to burn through her sleeve and onto her skin. A primal instinct awakened deep within her body. She balled her free hand into a fist, lit it with fire bending, and struck the old man on his left cheek bone.

He cried out. She slipped free. He collapsed onto the bed grabbing at his face. She stepped back. He pulled his hand away, revealing blood pouring from his nose. He stared at the blood for a moment.

And then his true fire bender's fury revealed itself. His hands began to glow. He rose from the bed, slowly, lighting the bedspread and canopy ablaze.

“You will pay for that, you insufferable whore...” he stepped forward.

The temperature of the room rose. He gathered a ball of fire in his hands. She stepped back further, heading for the door, afraid to take her eyes off him. With a furious yell, he hurled the fireball at her head. She raised her hands in front of her and separated the flames before they could hurt her. The curtains and carpet behind her were not so lucky. The room was beginning to fill with smoke.

“Stop!” she cried.

“I am the lord of this land!” he said. “Blessed by the Heavens with Divine Authority.”

“Please, I'm--”

“I will not be denied!”

“I am pregnant with your son's child!”

He paused.

She widened her stance and held her hands in front of her. She would fight back if she had to. His fists cooled. His face relaxed. He looked at the flames he had released into the room, and with a wave of his hands, he extinguished them. But the damage had already been done.

“Go,” he said. “To bed if you so insist.” His voice was quiet. He turned and braced himself on a nearby chair, becoming once again an old man.

But Ursa had lost all sympathy. She turned and fled, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

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Ursa's handmaidens noticed she was shaken when they came to prepare her for bed. She still had not gotten used to having servants. There was a dynamic with them that continually felt foreign for her. They had seen her in sleeping and waking, had brushed her hair, drawn her baths, dressed and undressed her, but they did not know her. They were not there for her to confide in. And it was equally uncomfortable for these hired girls to see their mistress so clearly distressed. They understood the dynamic as well. No questions would be asked.

She dismissed the handmaidens and collapsed on the bed.

She had spent her wedding night on this bed. Her husband was on her mind. She longed to curl up in his arms, more than she had ever longed before. She remembered the cold and uncomfortable way he had talked about his father. He had tried to warn her not to fraternize with Azulon.

But he had not told her the truth. Her longing turned to anger. He had known Azulon's true nature. Surely he must have, growing up in this house. And he hadn't told her. Or maybe she was being too harsh. Perhaps he didn't know the truth fully. Or perhaps he was not free to reveal his father's secrets. Perhaps threats or abuse had silenced him. Or maybe he didn't understand how naive Ursa actually had been.

She didn't sleep. She got up and paced, and then tried to distract herself with a book. And then went out onto the balcony to move through her fire bending forms. She tried again to sleep. But the night wore on and sleep did not come till after dawn.

And just as she finally drifted off, a knock came to her chamber door. Slowly she came to consciousness. The knock repeated. She stumbled out from under the blankets, covered her body in a cotton robe, and answered. She blinked sleep from her eyes to see a palace guard standing before her.

Her stomach sank.

“My Lady, I am here to summon you to the Fire Lord's private office,” the guard said.

She snarled and slammed the door in his face.

The guard knocked again. “Princess Ursa,” he called. “My orders were to escort you to his office, and if you would not come voluntarily, that I was to bring you by force. In chains if need be. I'm sorry My Lady.”

She took a deep breath. She had to act carefully from now on, balance her risks, and made hard choices. And perhaps today it was best to give Azulon what he wanted. “Give me a moment to get dressed,” she said.

When she emerged the guard was still there. He walked behind her silently, taking no chances that she would stray from her destination. A part of her was thankful the guard was there, so she would not be forced to confront the Fire Lord alone. But that was silly, because a lowly palace guard would be no protection against the Nation's Divinely Appointed Governor. And it was no use any way, because when they reached the office, he pushed her inside alone and closed the door.

Ursa stood with her back against the door. Azulon sat in front of her. He looked tired, and furious. The gentle old man was gone, and the true Fire Lord appeared in his place. On his face was a mark where she had struck him in self defense. She wondered how he had explained that to his guards and servants. Though, like her own servants, they probably knew better than to ask questions.

“What is this!” he said to her. “What is this insolence. On your knees, girl!”

She dropped to the floor and pressed her face into the woven carpet.

He took a moment to collect himself before he spoke. She could not see his face. “You understand, Ursa, that you are forbidden to speaking of this to anyone? Not a word!”

She didn't answer.

She heard his hand pound upon the desk. “Answer me!”

“I think my husband ought to know,” she said.

“Least of all your husband! For the love of...” He seethed. “By order of your King. By penalty of death. Not a word of this is to be spoken to anyone. Not to your husband! Not to your family! Not to the servant girls! Do you or do you not understand?!”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She was glad her face was to the floor so that he could not see the tears pooling beneath her eyes.

“Speak, woman! I am an old man and my ears do not perceive mumbling!”

“Yes, My Lord,” she choked, louder. “I understand.”

He scoffed. “I have already extended you mercy unwarranted. I should have you executed for the insubordination you showed me last night. Out of compassion for my grandchild and love for my son, you have been spared. But further insolence will not be tolerated.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said.

“I did not give you permission to speak!” He continued. “And if I change my mind, that is my right. As King. If I order you jump from the palace balcony to your death, you will do it. If I order you to my bed, you will come. If I order you hand over your child to starving wild wolves ,you will do it. Your life is given to you as a gift, Ursa of Hira'a. As long as you walk in my house, within the borders of my nation, you are at my mercy. And never again will you take that for granted.”

Water leaked from her eyes and nose. She could hardly breathe. She dared not move to wipe it away.

“Look at me,” he said.

She lifted her head. He snarled at the sight of her tears.

“And I have further orders. You are not to mention this child, if it even exists, to my son in any of your letters. Out of mercy, I will mail the letters you have written thus far. But every single scrap of paper that leaves your hand will personally be read by me. I will not have him distracted. His work on the front is too important. The letters you send to your family will also be inspected. If I read anything in them but unadulterated joy and gratitude of the status I have given you, the consequences will be beyond your imagination. Do you or do you not understand?”

“Yes, My Lord...” she said.

He inhaled and exhaled. “Well?” he said. “Is there anything you have to say in your own defense? Or are you just going to kneel there like a sniveling dog?”

She looked down at her knees. “Perhaps...”

“Perhaps what!?”

She flinched. “Perhaps it would be best if I stayed with my family. Until Ozai comes back to the front.”

Azulon pinched the bridge of his nose. “The absolute insolence... I give you a chance to repent, and you dare ask for a request.... No! You will not go to your family, you stupid child! Do you think I am so thick as to let you out of my sight? Let you spill my secrets and yours for the world to hear? Let you take my grandchild and run? For the love of heaven and and all the stars within it... Absolutely disgusting! Get out of my sight!”

She stood and retreated out the office door. The guard saw the tears streaming down her face as she left, but he said nothing. It was not his place.

Ursa remembered her first day in the palace, when she had watched Ozai emerge from a meeting with his father. He had turned in rage and struck the wall, knocking a vase from its table and shattering it on the floor. The rage had startled her. It had been foreign to her. But in this moment, she understood it perfectly.

She headed back to her chambers. She desperately needed a cup of tea and some sleep. And most importantly, she needed to think. It was going to be a long several months.

 


End file.
